Union
by sweetprincipale
Summary: A story about love, but maybe not about romance. A sweet little piece about two gentle people who love each other without being in love, trying to overcome regrets, fear, and loneliness in order to keep what's left of their lives together. Giles/Tara, completely AU, after season five. Sunnydale Memorial Awards Round 31 Winner: Best Angst, Best Unconventional Pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**Union**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ A story about love, but maybe not about romance. A sweet little piece about two gentle people who love each other without being in love, trying to overcome regrets, fear, and loneliness in order to keep what's left of their lives together. Completely AU, after season five._

_Author's Note: It's a piece about Tara and Giles. I never imagined I would write such a piece, but the idea would not leave alone until it was written. If you find that wrong, bad, or in someway worth getting upset over, please stop reading. I don't write to make people sad, I write because I love it and I like to share what's in my head with people who are looking to enjoy a flight of fancy. _

_Author's Second Note: This is fictional, so please don't fault any technical inaccuracies if there are any. _

_Dedicated to Ginar369, MaireAlibhe, WriterDragonfly, and AGriffinWriter- my courage for sharing new ideas. _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** I**

_July..._

The heat was stifling. Humidity clung to them. The only thing heavier was the air of depression, desperation, desolation. They all hung in its sickening mist, together.

Death does that to a family. They_ were _family. Two mourning daughters. A widow of sorts. Bereft siblings in name, not in blood.

They all seemed to move around him, these new little pods. Two couples, one newly wed in a small ceremony that was the farthest thing from her white wedding dreams. The other pairing tentative and bruising, but undeniably together, agreeably forcing themselves to do it out of comfort and need.

Giles watched them sitting in the darkened Summers' living room, looking over something, the vampire's deft white fingers weaving through long, thick brunette locks as his newly adopted "sister/daughter" leaned silently against his knee. Buffy's hands whittled stakes as she peered at - it was the paper, he could see now.

"Good afternoon." He broke the stillness.

"Hey."

"Hi, Giles."

A chorus of hellos, a small nod from the only other one moving through the grief alone. Oh yes, fully loved, fully supported, and yet alone. Like him, she didn't have a cluster, or a pairing.

"Tea?" Tara murmured, and rose to make it without waiting for an answer. She always cooked. Made tea. Cleaned. No amount of pleading stopped her. People deal with the loss of significant others in different ways.

"Can you pop Spike's blood in the microwave? He's braiding." Buffy asked as she headed to Giles' side.

Losing a parent and one's best friend, one's sister-at-heart, makes one act oddly as well, he reflected, listening to the Slayer's request for her vampiric partner.

"Thanks, Tar." Spike called.

"You look upset." Buffy said flatly. No quips, no cute idioms he once would have found annoying, now missed.

"It's nothing urgent. But yes. I'm upset." He confessed. Honesty was better now. "Travers is getting a bit of his own back, now that Glory is destroyed and the world is safe." The name of the beast, the thing that killed Willow, that hurt Tara's mind, that held them all over the precipice- it had an eerie effect on the room. His warriors turned to statues. He hurried on, trying to out run the shadow that suddenly seemed beside them. "He wouldn't fire me, not after having to submit to the humiliation of just rehiring me and giving me a raise, retroactive pay, etc."

"So what's he doing?"

"He's changed my visa clearance. I'm no longer on a two-year automatic renewal. I'm on a six month, renewable by application process. Also known as the 'Don't get comfortable, don't forget who owns you' visa. That's what he's trying to say." His fists clenched. "And the six month period began in May. After... Well, after he thought it would be safe to upset us."

"So- that only gives you until November before- before they take you away?" Buffy's voice was emotional, for the first time in days, maybe weeks. Eyes instantly blazing, angrily tear-filled, turned up to meet his face. "They can't! Giles, we can't lose one more person!"

"She's right." Tara returned, two mugs in hand.

"They're not taking me away." He soothed. "That is- not definitely. Most probably not. Not while you're active. But, there is the risk, as long as he has me on that plan. I'm going to bite the bullet. I should have done it years ago- only..." He paused guiltily. "Only, slaying is an uncertain business. I didn't know how long-"

"How long I'd live." Buffy finished the words he couldn't bear to say.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "I didn't have anyone over here besides you, the assignment. Now even if, God forbid, I should- hm, I should find myself without an active position, I have family here. California is my home, if not homeland."

"Beautiful stuff, G-Man." Xander managed a weak joke. "But what bullet are you biting?"

"Applying for dual citizenship." He sighed. "It's a long process, nowhere near complete in the four months remaining. I'm doing everything I can to speed it along, without Travers becoming aware by my pulling any strings. I have a meeting with an immigration advisor tomorrow morning, first thing, and I'm driving to Los Angeles tonight so I can be ready in the morning."

"That's fast." Dawn said. "When did you get the letter?"

"Ah. June. But I didn't notice it. In all the - all the other things. Mail hardly seemed important. I read it this morning, spent the time investigating a course of action, and I just wanted to stop over to let you know where I was headed so you wouldn't worry when I missed dinner, or didn't get home until tomorrow night. All right?"

"And you wanted to see us." Anya smiled. "It's a good thing."

"Yes. Yes, it is." He hugged Buffy briefly, walked to Dawn and stooped to kiss her forehead, exchanging a small smile with Spike as he straightened up. "Don't worry. We have time, and we have ways. I just needed to let you know."

With a few more questions and a few more farewells, he was gone.

* * *

_August..._

"He's doing everything he can. We just have to wait. He has to wait too." Spike tried to soothe his restless lover, tossing beside him in the pre-dawn gray. "You not sleeping doesn't make it better."

"What about a - a marriage of convenience? Like in that Greencard movie?"

"Never seen it. And he hasn't knocked anyone up, has he?"

"No! Not that way. Where the guy marries an American to get citizenship."

"The immigration blokes still investigate that stuff, Buffy."

"But it stacks the deck in his favor. They would need super good reasons to deny him if he had a wife here. They'd be breaking up a family." She suddenly choked back a sob. "My family's already broken... If Mom were here- I bet she'd do it. I bet she would."

Spike thought that slightly unlikely, but anything was possible. He didn't voice that opinion. His girl was sobbing again, like she seemed to do at least once a week.

* * *

Tara didn't sleep well. She woke up early, she woke up many times in a night, reaching for a form no longer there. College was done for the semester, and she was out of the dorms until September, so she took the spare room in the Summers' home. The waking up was less painful. To be surrounded by loved ones, if not the one she loved most.

This morning she woke to tears. Pained, deep ones, ones trying to be stifled, she could tell by the way the air muffled in between the tortured sounds. She'd done it herself, often. "Dawnie?" She murmured, coming to.

"Shh... can't expect... marriage to a stranger!"

No, not Dawnie this time, but Buffy. Spike's words, fragments of sound she barely caught, were trying to soothe her sobs.

"It doesn't have to be a stranger!" Buffy's words were clearer, louder, more desperate. "He has friends!"

"There's you and Dawn. Anya and Tara."

Tara didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the sound of their names attracted her attention, brought her fully awake.

There was a long pause. "Dawn's too young."

"You... you?" Spike's voice was softer, sadder.

"No." One word, clear.

"Thanks, Slayer."

Tara listened for a moment, but nothing more was said just then. She guiltily moved from her bed, awake now, and forcing herself to start the day, heading for the shower, intent on waking herself up fully so she would not sink back into bed, back into lying alone, staring emptily at the ceiling.

She passed their door, just in time to hear Spike's voice. "I don't think it'd ever occur to her."

"I couldn't ask her. He never would."

"She doesn't even swing that way."

"She wouldn't have to 'swing' Spike! Giles would never expect her to 'provide physical proof', or something like that."

"Okay, okay, settle yourself, Luv. It wasn't my idea."

A pause. Tara was frozen by their door, guilt forgotten.

"If I lose him, too? I think I'll die, Spike. For real. I don't want to leave you or Dawn, or anyone. But I don't think my heart could beat anymore. I don't have room for one more hole in it."

The sobbing started again.

Tara darted toward the shower, frightened at Buffy's words, confused by the half-heard conversation.

* * *

Giles opened the door to his flat, smiling broadly at the unexpected visit. "Tara! It's good to see you."

He saw her every day. He meant it was good to see her out, dressed for the world, moving through it. "You, too." She smiled sweetly, took a deep breath, and tremblingly pushed herself into the room before she could change her mind.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"  
"I c-came to see if you heard anything."

He didn't have to ask about what. They asked every day. "It's still a six to eight month wait for the first exam and interview. After that, it moves more quickly."

"Is it different if you're married to an American citizen?"

"Oh yes, different process." He nodded and shuffled past her toward the kitchen. "Tea? I made scones, but don't let Xander know. He'll come over and eat them all."

_He's sweet. He's kind. He loves us. We love him. It would help him, and help us. Buffy's not the only one who feels like her heart has holes inside, worries about living with them, with pieces missing. _

"Tara?"

"Yes. Please." She finally agreed to the tea, leaving her own thoughts for a moment. As soon as he began clinking about in the kitchen, they consumed her again.

_He would never ask me. I couldn't ask him. I could ask if he'd consider something like that, then tell him I could help. _

_Willow? Willow, let me know if you mind, Sweetie. I know you don't. I don't even have to ask. You would do it too if you were here. You loved him more than they even knew. _Tara smiled in spite of her anxiety, remembering her girlfriend's confession that Giles was one man she still had some sort of crush on, though her love for him was platonic.

_We both loved you, so much. Giles and me. I think you were his favorite- you two bookworms. _

"Just boiled when you came. I have jam and lemon curd. I suppose I ought to start eating Oreos and Coke, to prove my Americanization." He laughed as he entered, putting a rosewood tray between them on the coffee table, two cups, two scones, two little pots of jam and curd, and spoons.

"Oreos with tea, it works." She smiled shakily.

"What's wrong, dear?" He asked. That smile fooled no one.

_What_ isn't_ wrong about this?_ Tara shook her head. "Nothing."

"It's natural to have bad days after a loss." He met her eyes. "I sometimes find it hard to be around the others. The family, the couple."

She did too, and nodded in spite of herself. "I love them."

"I know. As do I. It_ is _hard, love or not." _To feel alone, even in the midst of so much friendship. To feel that you're looking at things you'll never have again, never had to begin with. _

She conceded. "I guess I try not to think about it- but yes. I-it is."

Silence, companionable, kind. Sipping together. The warmth gave her courage to pick up her first vein of conversation.

"Would it be easier if you were married to a citizen?"

"Hm? Oh, the citizenship." He was thrown for a moment. "It moves you to a different queue, one moved faster, and they do have to find some extremely valid reason for deportation or revoking a visa when you're married, lest they break up a family." Giles answered. It was only after all the information rolled so easily off his tongue that he realized her questions might not be general. "But I'm not married. There's no question of me finding a wife in a few months time." He didn't meet her eyes now, his voice slightly harsh. "No need to try to set me up with someone. The only person who might consider this is either unscrupulous, expecting some large some of money, or needing a ruse of their own."

_I am not! _"N-no! No, someone m-might w-want you t-to stay. B-because we need you here." Tara contradicted him quickly, tea sloshing in her saucer as the cup rattled back to the tray.

"Tara..." Startled, he trailed off as soon as he began.

"I- I know you wouldn't w-want to. Only, if it w-would help, s-someone might be w-willing to." Her stutter was worsening. She clamped her lips closed, bravery vanishing. "I'm sorry. I sh-should go. I don't know anything about th-this."

"Wait, please." He rose when she did. "Sit?"

She hesitated, but sat, and he slowly sank back as well.

He didn't speak for a long minute, a minute that felt like an hour. "Tara, if someone incredibly kind did want to do this, simply because they want me to remain in the country- it would be wonderful. It would also be unfair. It wouldn't work."

Her turn for silence. It would be easy to agree, go away quickly and never speak of it again.

And curse herself every day if he left them, if Buffy felt worse, if they all fell apart even more. "Why?"

His turn to hastily put his cup down. Why? How to put words to that which should need no explanation? "It wouldn't be a real marriage. It wouldn't be two people who love each other, wanting to make a life together."

"It could be two people who love each other- like family, like friends, who want to make sure life together doesn't stop." She told the floor.

"It would be a terrible burden to the other person!"

"Why? What are you asking this person to do that they wouldn't do already?" Tara's eyes found their way up. "To live in a house with you? To spend time with you? Tell the people at INS that yes, she does love you and she knows that you drink tea in one hundred and five degree weather, to name your favorite music, food, and which side you sleep on?" She blushed suddenly. "You're a good teacher, and you're smart. You could teach someone about you, and learn about them, in a few weeks, maybe days."

_Is she offering for herself? Or is it for- the only other one could be Buffy. Buffy couldn't offer, not with Spike in the picture, and I can't ask her to choose. _"It would ruin that person's chance for a normal relationship, by carrying on a pretend one." He said gently.

"I don't want any other 'normal' relationship. Not for a long, long time. Maybe never again."_ I feel safe with him. Enough that I could live in the same house and know my heart would just go on being broken. Not healed yet, just living through it, letting time do what it has to do. No forcing it to mend. No one pushing me to "get back out there", not that I know anyone who would. All my friends would know the secret, and they'd all get it. _

"Tara." He breathed out her name hesitantly, blinking, removing his glasses. "I- I'm much older than you."

_We've stopped alluding. Now we know it's us, we're talking about him and me. _She felt hot, and her stutter reappeared. "I h-have an old s-soul. You're f-forty something. Not seventy. I'm twenty one. Older g-guys and younger g-girls, it happens all the time."

"Hrm." He felt hot as well, blushing. "Your preferences- romantically..."

"I've been with men before. I had boyfriends." Her heat flooded to her cheeks, turning them rose pink. "You wouldn't expect us to," she swallowed hard, "to d-do th-things." He nodded emphatically. "It shouldn't matter."

"I don't want you to live a lie!"

"I don't want you to leave! It's not a lie if we c-care about each other and we're t-together. It just wouldn't b-be a regular m-marriage."

She had tears on her face, one on each cheek. She shuddered gently when he reached over and wiped them away. He had not been like a father to her, because her father was horrible to her. "Giles" and "father" had never been synonymous or even comparatives. Giles had been nothing but good and helpful to her, always. He had briefly been just a father figure as she entered the group, until she began to see him as the wisest and oldest of her friends. "You have two rooms. How many nights of the week have we all ended up crashing here, or Buffy's, even Xander and Anya's? I- I don't think it's as h-hard as you think it would be." She forced out a final piece of her explanation.

Everything she said was true. He'd just never ever expected to hear her say such things, and he'd genuinely never thought about them. "I don't deserve a kindness like this." He said humbly.

"You don't deserve to get torn away from your family, either." She whispered. Her throat dried out over the sudden lump. "If you don't want to, you can say so. If it's- y'know- if it's me. I g-get that."

"No! No, Tara, dear, that's the kindest, sweetest offer, and I'm unworthy of it." He felt the world spinning, overwhelmed as he considered what she might genuinely be offering. "It's such a serious commitment, even if it's only a marriage on paper. I don't want to ask you to do that."

"You didn't ask. I did. I asked y-you." She bit her lip. People rejected her. Many times. This would be one of the few times she deserved it. She was asking a good man to live in a lie, and with someone clearly not his type.

His denials had turned suddenly to caveats, pushing her to consider, to withdraw from something that actually sounded simple when she presented it. "We'd have to make it look real. A ring. A small civil ceremony that wouldn't alert Travers, but would be valid and documented. You'd have to live here afterwards. We'd have to take a little honeymoon, or at least a wedding night away." His chest felt oddly tight, bitterness stirring in him. He'd wanted those things. Those things to be real. Now they would come as stage dressing, if they came at all.

"I know. And we'd need to do it soon. Maybe next month." Tara whispered.

"We'd have to tell the others."

"They won't mind."

They'd talked themselves out of words for a moment. "Do you? Think hard, Tara. Do you mind?"

"I mind the fact that people can make you leave us- that Travers is trying to push your buttons." Fury shone briefly in her eyes, and her voice was suddenly cold and firm. "We've been through _enough_. I want to do anything I can to help you stay."

He let go of air he'd clamped in his lungs, suddenly sharing her fury, suddenly not minding sticking it to his megalomaniac of a boss, muddying the waters, throwing up every defense he could. Even if the defense came in so soft and gentle a package.

"You'll have to humor me."

"You'd have to do the same for me." She shrugged.

"Would you come to dinner with me?"

"But... like a date?" She blinked. This was not about dating!

"I think we'll have to appear to date for a few weeks." He smiled faintly. "I don't think it will be unpleasant. We'll make most of them group outings."

"Oh! No, no, not unpleasant!" She shook her head. They smiled together, suddenly.

"It's not a good idea, this. It's not smart." He reminded her.

"But it won't be too bad."

* * *

"We brought pizza." Giles entered the Summers' home.

"Doughnuts." Tara added, holding out a bag.

Spike sat up slowly from the couch, Dawn's head popping up from the region of the floor by his boots.

"Both?" Dawn asked warily. "What's wrong?"

"Maybe it's something good!" Xander said hopefully.

"Whatever it is, it's about time. Buffy and I managed the store all afternoon, and you know Buffy isn't good at running the register." Anya snapped.

"That's because you won't let anyone but you touch money." Buffy huffed.

Spike finally spoke. "No blood?"

"I told you we needed to stop." Tara hissed.

"The pizza would have gotten cold!" Giles hissed back.

The snarking and muttering in the background stopped. Five figures stared at two. Giles coughed uncomfortably. "Dinner, then dessert. Shall we?" He resolutely headed to the dining room, Tara behind him.

"Something's weird." Dawn whispered to her sister.

"Something's always weird." Buffy mumbled wearily.

* * *

"Gonna tell us whatever it is?" Spike finally asked as the last paper plate was pushed away.

They exchanged a glance. Been trying to all through the short meal, but nothing seemed to come out.

"It's the visa papers, isn't it?" Buffy suddenly whispered. "They turned you down, or Travers told you he's pulling rank or calling in favors, and no matter what, you're on this six month cycle of waiting to see if our lives get torn apart!" Buffy crumpled her napkin viciously, anger in her voice making it quiver.

"No, no. No." Giles soothed. Then he cleared his throat. "Though, in a way, it's related to the visa application. Tara- Tara very generously tried to help us add another way to stack the deck in our favor."

"Tara has connections with the immigration people?" Anya demanded.

"I don't." Tara assured them. "B-but I heard that p-people who are already married to an American citizen h-have more success in getting approved."

Buffy's arm spasmed, her water glass splashed Xander as it spilled across the table. "Married?"

Spike darted a quick look at her. "You say somethin' to him?" He demanded in a whisper. "Or her?" She shook her head furiously.

"What Tara said is true. It's not a guarantee, but it is a different, and usually more swiftly processed circumstance."

"Well duh." Xander looked at them like he couldn't believe they'd just thought of this. "Am I the only one who's seen those web ads? Russian brides or Asian brides or whatever brides? Looking for love- and American citizenship?"

"You probably are. You're the only one who looks at websites where ads like that pop up." Spike snarled.

"Hey! Years ago- but I bet it's still around." Xander blushed.

"What kind of web- " Dawn was hastily cut off by Anya.

"That only works if you're outside, looking to get in. He's here, and he wants to stay. You'd have to find someone really shady, or really ugly and desperate to fake a marriage from this side."

Tara made a miserable noise.

"Or someone very compassionate and helpful. A good friend who would like to see this family- what remains of it, stay intact." Giles briefly gestured to Tara, who studied the tablecloth.

"You guys?" Dawn's voice reached inhuman frequencies as she stood and made a move to hug them- then stopped. "That's amazing! But...wait, Tara... I'm not getting something, right?"

"It's an act, Bit. An act for a bloody good cause." Spike nodded gratefully at the blonde as she lifted her head.

"Oh. That makes way more sense." Xander looked relieved. "Way to go, guys! That's a good ... no, wait. That's a plan. I'm not going to jump and say it's a good one yet. I mean, good idea, but isn't it kind of a stretch? Don't the immigration people do some digging to find out what's legit or not?"

"Then they're good." Buffy said firmly, in her Slayer-taking-charge tone of voice. "They've known each other a couple of years, and they have a lot in common."

"They do?" Xander asked.

"We do?" Giles echoed.

"You run a magic store, Tara's a wicca, and she works there part time- boom, office romance angle." Buffy impatiently ticked off reasons on her fingers. "You're a former museum curator, Tara's an art education major. You were a librarian and your apartment looks like it, she's all smart and reads those weird books about insect reflections and cosmological crap. You both like tea. You're both- alone. And it makes sense- I mean, the way you're playing it out to the visa people, that two lonely people who've lost someone finally seize the moment and get together!"

Tara looked at her silently, having already heard that this idea was on Buffy's mind. Giles on the other hand arched an eyebrow above the rim of his glasses. "You've given this a lot of thought, very rapidly."

Buffy blushed slightly. "I knew if you needed a bride, it would have to be someone you could trust with the Hellmouth-y part of your life. There's only four of us that could help, and three of us are unavailable." Buffy's tone softened. "Tara, I know you ought to be unavailable too. I- I don't know how you can even pretend to start over, after- after Wills."

Her eyes prickling, Tara tried to sound brave. Strong. Strong like an Amazon. "Because if Willow were here she'd do anything for Giles."

"And I for her." Giles found his own voice rather tight. "For anyone here. We've come too far, through literal hells, and deaths, to let some arrogant man behind a desk an ocean away push us apart. We go out fighting, using any weapons we can."

"All's fair in love and war." Spike quoted and sat back in his chair with a smirk. "When's the happy day?"

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Union**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ A story about love, but maybe not about romance. A sweet little piece about two gentle people who love each other without being in love, trying to overcome regrets, fear, and loneliness in order to keep what's left of their lives together. Completely AU, after season five._

_Author's Note: It's a piece about Tara and Giles. I never imagined I would write such a piece, but the idea would not leave alone until it was written. If you find that wrong, bad, or in someway worth getting upset over, please stop reading. I don't write to make people sad, I write because I love it and I like to share what's in my head with people who are looking to enjoy a flight of fancy. _

_Author's Second Note: Trigger warning. Depiction (not detailed) of sexual violence in the past- none occurring or will occur during this story! There is an M rating in place for a reason. _

_Dedicated to Ginar369, AGriffinWriter, Validescope West, __sbyamibakura__, TieDyeJackson, kitakana, Spikesheart, Omslagspapper, and rpfan1976- the support system keeping this piece going. _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** II**

_September_

They picked Labor Day weekend, because it gave them four days to go away on an acceptable "honeymoon" without prolonging it. She had college, he had the shop, if anyone asked.

After three weeks of "dates", a small solitaire diamond appeared on Tara's hand. An announcement in the local paper. A license obtained, blood tests taken, appropriate paperwork sent to Giles' case manager at INS.

And now they gathered, on a Thursday night, in front of a rather tired judge who just wanted to finish this last civil ceremony of the day and go home for his four day break.

A blushing bride in simple, unaccented white, three girls in equally understated black with white accents, and two young men backing a much older, terribly distinguished looking groom- and their photographer.

"Is this all?" The judge had years of practice at keeping the surprise from his voice.

"This is all." Giles nodded. "Please, as you're ready."

"Let's begin, then."

* * *

Tara felt like her insides had wings, fluttering in panic, not joy. _Brides shouldn't feel this on their wedding day. I wasn't going to be a bride. Willow and I would have had a different kind of ceremony. _Tears sprang suddenly to her eyes, but she allowed herself the unshed tears, telling herself brides often had those misty eyed moments- for different reasons.

_I love you, Willow. I miss you so much. Just give me a little sign that you don't mind?_

Giles stumbled in his vows. He repeated word for word after the judge, and then stopped after "in sickness and health", looking at her. Looking into those shining eyes, "And I promise to take care of her and try to show all the love that she deserves. I can never replace what was lost, but I will try to be a worthy successor."

_He knows. He knows he'll always be following in Willow's path, and it's not even the same kind of path, it won't lead to being in love. But it'll be loving._

The tears went away with a blink, a beautiful, tremulous smile. "I p-promise that, too. That I can't be the person R-Rupert deserves, but I'll be everything I can be for him. Oh, in sickness and in health."

The judge swiveled between them. _Anymore strange, add on vows? No? Let's end this show. _He nodded jerkily, shut his leather folder with a snap, and proclaimed, "In that case, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

It seemed to him like the ensemble froze, turning expectantly towards the couple, but there was none of the joyful anticipation that usually accompanied his words. This was more like- nervousness?

"I'm ready, you two!" The photographer laughed.

Maybe they'd just been one of those fussy couples who wanted the moment captured on film. The judge shrugged and plastered a smile on his face.

Tara stepped forward, shifting her bunch of white roses into her left hand, trying not to look too tentative as she smiled and slid her right hand to Giles' gray suited elbow.

His grin was soft and genuine, encouraging, as he bent his head. Her own lips widened, and the camera flashed twice, once as it captured two faces inches apart, sharing some secret sweetness, and then again as lips pressed and held in a chaste but lovely kiss.

Now the party cried and clapped. The couple broke apart with a laugh of their own, and posed again, arm in arm, suddenly relaxed looking. More than relaxed- triumphantly pleased.

_We did it._

* * *

"They did a real nice job of it. Ahn's a good planner." Spike unzipped his own lover that night, out of her slim little black frock.

"I loved that cake. Chocolate on chocolate on buttercream."

"Mm, chocolate on buttercream on Buffy might be better." He hinted with a leer. She giggled and removed the strapless bra from her ribcage with a wince.

"Maybe one night when Dawn's sleeping over somewhere." Buffy sighed. "I'm going to miss having a built in babysitter- ooh, that sounded bad." Another wince, this time guilty.

"Ah, none of that. Happy thoughts. Happy day." He rubbed her lined skin.

"Yeah... It was a good job. I think the pictures should look convincing."

"I think we all looked convincing." That bloody photographer insisted on boy shots, and girl shots, had to have a hundred poses, men looking all suave, or all goofy, arms round each other grinning, raising glasses together, everyone with their lady, and Dawn kneeling in front on her own like some six year old. "Must've gotten a thousand snaps tonight."

"That's what photographers do. Take a ton of pictures." Buffy rolled her eyes. "I'm glad they had a flight though, so that guy could_ leave_." She groaned.

"Otherwise he'd still be here." Spike chuckled in agreement. "We did a bang up job on the old boy's car."

"It looked tacky and made dozens of people honk. He hates you."

"But the immigration folks'll love me." He preened, picturing the red convertible with its bottle and can streamers, soaped on words lacing the back- and Giles' exasperated face. "Got at least a few shots of that, and the blushing bride climbing in."

"Great reception, good cake, good getaway car..." Buffy sank down beside him on the bed, now in a slim pink tank top and shorts. He nodded. She hesitated. "Do you think they'll be okay?"

"Yes." He agreed firmly.

"They're adults, I know that."

"And not like they're honeymooning in war-torn countries, Buffy. They're safer than stayin' _here._ Three and half days in boring Boston."

"I don't think anyone will buy that as a honeymoon spot."

"Then they don't account for the magic shop owner marrying a witch. Boston's the colonial hot spot for witchcraft- or at least the nearest big city to it, right?"

* * *

"Here's the brochure for the inn and museum. Then this one's the botanical gardens... oh, we can do a tour of the city's historical section. Paul Revere and things." Giles dug around in his carryon and gave his companion a stack of glossy leaflets.

"Won't that offend you?" She teased. "Visiting the hang outs of Mr. 'The British are coming!' ?"

"I'm trying to embrace my heritage as a future American citizen." He said drily.

"I'm more interested in where we're staying." Tara glanced eagerly at the blue and white leaflet, old-fashioned photography and script curling across the pages.

"Highly recommended. Better than the hype surrounding Salem. Genuine witchcraft and wiccan heritage." He nodded towards her.

She ran a finger over the page. "Willow would- would have liked this. Remember how she used to get so worked up over stereotypes?"

"I know. Halloween costumes were the worst." They chuckled.

The laughing didn't last long. She read. He shifted in his seat.

Finally, she whispered, "This is really nice. Thoughtful. I d-don't know how most guys are about planning honeymoons, b-but I think this is way better than just picking a beach or an island."

He briefly squeezed her hand. "I hope- hrm- I hope you'll be happy with everything."

"I am!" _And a little nervous. _

"This is the suite I booked for us." He tapped a large center spread on the back cover. "Read it. I think you'll like it."

She nodded and read. _The Shaker Suite- a museum exhibit in your own rooms, private from the public... Living room, queen sized bed, fireplace, view of the woods- second bedroom with two doubles for families traveling together. _ She looked up at him as her eyes took in that line.

"I have a bit of a bad back. No need to spend the vacation sleeping on the floor or a couch." He murmured in an undertone. It was her turn to take his hand, a quick gesture to acknowledge his excellent arrangements. "Did you see they have a library?" His voice returned to normal.

"Ooh..."

"Largest publicly displayed collection of spell books from the 1700s."

"Can we check them out?"

"No, but they have posted public hours for viewing in their reading room."

"Willow would have flipped over this!"

" She'd have tried to smuggle a few out." Laughter, that again sank into silence.

"Sh-should we try to sleep? Fight off jet lag and stuff?" Tara suggested in a moment.

"Perhaps, yes. Good idea." He nodded briskly, and fumbled his glasses off.

* * *

_So this is my wedding night. Sleeping sitting up next to my bride. My bride who will share a suite, but not a bed, or even a bedroom._

_ That__'s hardly fair, to feel resentful towards her. _He angrily shook those feelings off. They were not truly directed at her. He tried to focus on the woman beside him, stealing a glimpse from the corner of a mostly closed eye. She was brave, and self-sacrificing, and knowing her, feeling just as churned up inside. And just like him, not very good at putting it into words.

_We shouldn't have had to do this. But we have. She's an unlikely partner, but has always been a good ally. _He wished that he could put his arm around her and hug her to his side and tell her everything would be just fine, perhaps even fun. And if it was difficult, well, they'd give each other space and time, and move about each other like they always had, just make sure they came home together most nights.

But they were in public. Grooms do not offer such comforts to their brides in public. And once alone in a suite, he knew there would be no question of touches, even platonic ones, because they were on edge.

_On my wedding day, I received my first kiss of a romantic- or pseudo-romantic nature, in a year and half. And the last I shall see before another year or so, I imagine. Longer, realistically._

Bitterness swelled and left, replaced with what was a much, much more common emotion for the seemingly unflappable man. Loneliness. Aching, sad, loneliness.

He turned his face to the window.

* * *

She woke to them taxiing into the airport, sitting up with a snort, finding Giles smiling at her and holding out a complimentary water bottle. "We're here?"

"Yes. And the rental should be ready by the time we get our luggage."

"What time is it?

"Just about nine in the morning. Hurrah for time zones."

* * *

He drove, she navigated, they didn't argue or squabble, conversation was easy and relaxed. The inn, sitting on a slight hill just under an hour northwest of Boston was beautiful. It overlooked forests and manicured lawns, and seemed to have stepped right out of history, with its severe front, tall columns around the porch, and many gables. The inn attached to a sprawling single story building, the museum. The library, according to a black lettered sign on a white wooden board, was in the main house itself.

"Giles- this place looks amazing." Tara was halfway out of the car before he could even put it in park.

"Really? I'm so glad you like it." He was, beaming at her in relief.

"How'd you find this place?" She asked, turning in a circle, staring with eager eyes.

He seemed rather pleased with himself, giving silent marks for unique holiday planning. "I used the Watchers' contact list of genuine magical historical sites by country. Then I- hm- went on the computer and looked at reviews. It was rated most coven friendly place in New England, and the gift shop sells proper magical supplies- not just gimmicks."

"I don't know which I'm more touched by, that you went online, or used something from the organization that's making your life miserable." She teased.

He laughed. When she was comfortable, her sense of humor was so delightful, quietly quick, like the silent bubbles in champagne. "I think you ought to be more impressed that I used the dreaded machine." He said, taking out his single suitcase, and hers, and following her to the door of the lobby.

* * *

They were shown to their room by a short, stooping lady with a pinched face and streaked hair pulled back in a bun. She looked like the stereotype of a witch (and they both could hear Willow's lecture beginning in their heads), but their hostess was quick to inform them that she was just the day clerk. As she entered the suite she said she had to give them some information, but if they had any questions about "magic and witches and what not" they'd need to see the manager or the guides running tours at the museum.

"Thank you, you've been most-" Giles reached for his wallet, but she cut him off.

"This is the master bedroom. Fireplace- gas." She went over instructions for its use and prohibitions along with it. "Don't try to cook in here. We had someone do that- exploded a pot of something, ran down into the gas jets- cost eight hundred dollars in repairs. They had to pay. You can see there's a list of nice places to eat out or order in right on the desk." She gestured. Giles concealed a grin and Tara smothered a giggle. Both managed to nod seriously.

"This is the exhibit that's a true museum piece." She took them through the main bedroom, past the bathroom, gesturing to the small guest room alongside of it, and then presented them with the "exhibit".

"It's a bed." Tara blinked. A huge, rough hewn bedstead with a squishy looking mattress covered in blue and white sheets and comforters, roped off with gold cord between little stands.

"It is indeed. Made by Hetty and Lynnette Shaker of the Birch coven, two witches from the Boston area, who made this bed in 1701. It's mentioned in folklore and witchcraft books as the "Curing Bed", used by the Shaker sisters as a bed for birthing, for treating the sick and dying, and healing various ailments." She pointed to a dark wooden table at the head of the bed, stacked with books. "Still said to have the powers they gave it, years after they've passed. If you want further reading, the "Curing Bed", often simply called the Shaker Bed, is mentioned in those books." Tara began to move toward them eagerly, but was stopped by a sudden authoritarian bark.

"I'm not done! This bed is property of the museum and inn, and is considered a museum exhibit. When you reserved the room, you agreed not to tamper, touch, use, or photograph said piece." Giles nodded, frowning. "Don't touch it, sit on it, or- do anything else on it. The bed is over three hundred years old now." The clerk paused, and then added, "And that's reason enough. But if it weren't, remember they say the bed has powers. We're not responsible for anything that happens if you violate the agreement, and the inn and museum are not responsible for magically induced injuries or illnesses, real or perceived."

Tara stared. Giles handed her a tip. "Is that all?"

"Yes." She smiled now. "Have a wonderful stay here. Sorry for the spiel. Part of my job."

They relaxed and nodded. "We're magically conversant. We don't fool about with artifacts." He assured, and she left after a quick reminder that the rooms were non-smoking.

Finally left alone, they both sighed. "This has been exhausting." Giles admitted.

"I know. At least I slept. Did you sleep?"

"A few hours. Are you hungry?"

Her stomach was still tense. "Not really. Maybe in a little while. Right now I'm just- grimy."

"Travel worn." Giles agreed. "You go first in the shower." He offered. "I'll see if they have room service for when you're hungry."

"I don't think they do." Tara bit her lip, gesturing to the surroundings- not exactly for the modern traveler.

He looked at her apologetically. "Something I neglected to consider."

"Yeah, b-but a place with room service wouldn't have this." She walked to the window, peeking out at the woods, the edge of the museum wing below. "Or that cool bed."

Giles felt less guilty now. "It's really all right?"

"Totally! I th-think colonial era objects are neat. N-not boring. Even though they're not as flashy." Tara nodded, turning back toward him.

"You're very kind."

"It's true! You know how much I like magic history."

They shared a smile. "Yes, you're quite right, I do know."

"When I'm done, let's go do breakfast and the museum?"

"I think I'll follow you, and then yes, absolutely." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I haven't worn a tie in so long." They both exchanged a rueful grin. He was in a button down white shirt, once pressed, now wrinkled from the flight and the drive. "I can't wait to get into some jeans and a jumper."

"Jumper... sweater, right?"

"Right. You've been studying." They teasingly talked about how they'd be quizzed on the slang from each country.

"I'm going to do great on our interview. I won't l-let you down." She nodded firmly, the humor suddenly gone.

"You won't. I may. It won't be your fault." He said gently.

"D-don't talk like that! We need you!"

"I know. I know, there's still a lot to learn, a lot they could ask that I've never anticipated."_ And a lot of intimate details I have anticipated, and that she must've as well, but we both haven't broached yet. Maybe on this trip it'll seem easier. More natural, when we have nowhere to be but alone and nowhere to go but together._ "Don't worry." He smiled warmly, though the warmth was shallow in his eyes. "Enjoy your shower."

* * *

She came back in a simple green and white dress, cotton and flowy. The kind of thing that suited her.

He was next, and returned to her in a button down shirt and only slightly rumpled trousers, finding her engrossed in one of the books by the Shaker Bed.

"No sweater?"

"It's a bit warmer than I thought it would be." He replied. Lying._ It makes me look old, old compared to her. I'd put my earring in if I'd thought to bring it. Let them call me a mid-life crises, I don't care, just don't let them break up my family. Anymore._ "Good books?"

"This bed is confusing." She looked from the bed back at the text, a frown crease between her fair brows.

"Confusing? How?"

"It looks like the Shaker sisters were mentalists and healers. They built this bed with talismans and charms in every part of it, ones they made themselves. Look at the headboard. There are carvings that start here," she pointed to the top of one post, "go all the way across the legs and back around. A ring of markings, but I don't know these symbols."

"Hm. Talismans could be projections of their power?" He reached behind her for another book, one of about twenty stacked haphazardly on the shelf by the rough hewn headboard.

"That's the second confusing part. I haven't found out how they did that, or how they prevented people from taking them out. I mean, three hundred years is a long time for people to resist stealing something that can heal you."

"Or has psychic properties." He tapped another page. "Lynnette had 'the sight'. Maybe these symbols prevent disturbing the bed's properties. They could even be specific to the Shaker sisters or their coven. I wonder if they have their journals or a grimoire in the museum."

"Oh, hey, this book's written by the last owner of the inn, and it mentions there's a whole Shaker sister room in the- oof!"

"Sorry!"

"Giles, it's tipping!"

She'd turned, he'd been reading, they bumped. He retreated a step, squarely into the stack of literature, sending them skidding across the floor and the bed, tipping over one of the cordons.

It was a bad comedy moment. She bent for the books, he for the rope, they smacked heads hard, and sat down wincing with pained exclamations.

Sat on the bed.

"We're not supposed to touch it!" Tara squeaked, leaping up, horrified.

He stared. Horror grew. For although his companion had acted like she was about to rise, she didn't. Her hands lifted, her shoulders jerked, but her hips remained seated on the edge.

"Giles..." Her voice quavered as she realized she hadn't moved.

"It's all right. I'm- I'm sure it's part of the artifact's healing properties. We've hurt our heads, and as soon as we feel a bit better, we'll be mobile." He soothed.

She nodded, taking a steadying breath. "Can you move?"

He tried. He moved easily backwards, sideways- and failed when he tried to rise. His head really didn't hurt all the badly either. "Don't panic."

"I can't stand up." Tara whispered plaintively.

"Then- oh, dear Lord. It must think we need 'healing'. Or that we've come to be healed." He closed his eyes in exasperation.

"Huh?"

"That is what it was used for." He handed her a book, fortunately they were still accessible, scattered across the covers. "First hand accounts of the miraculous bed."

* * *

She skimmed. He tried different books. Muttering different spells of release and unbinding, of reversal. Nothing. She tried as well. Nothing.

"The book says the events are instantaneous." Tara murmured quietly.

"Yes. I've been thinking about that." He pointed to the antique clock visible across the room. "Watch it."

"It's dead." Tara said after a minute, when the second hand remained still.

"No, we're 'charmed'. The bed seems to heal instantly, only because time ceased to move to the patient."

"But births? You can't freeze time for that, or no birth would happen."

"It's a natural thing. It runs its course. It's not a healing moment, nor is death. They created the bed to aid the natural processes, and the most unnatural one- healing from something unnatural, not a _normal _bodily process. The body can do it, sometimes, but it isn't an action occurring without something from the outside triggering it. At least that's my theory for the moment." He muttered.

"Well, my head feels fine."

"Mine as well. So it thinks we need healing from something else." He sighed. "Think?"

She knew. Broken heart? It wouldn't heal, but it was struggling along. It couldn't be anything else. You couldn't heal from fears, could you? You could get over them, but that's not a healing thing, right? "I- don't know." She whispered finally.

Giles nodded. The only thing he needed a cure for was bureaucracy and stress.

Maybe sadness. Loneliness. Sense of loss and lost chances. They didn't "heal", those things. Mental, not physical problems.

And the Shaker sisters dealt with the mental plane as well as the corporeal.

"Tara, hand me the first hand accounts again. Did anyone mention a mental illness, or something emotional, not physical?"

She'd been wondering the same thing, and his words made her jump slightly. "Y-you can't heal fears."

"Nor sadnesses." He offered a grim smile. "You can work through them, perhaps."

"But how does a bed help us do that? They're dead, they can't even read minds anymore, or tell us a cure." She felt helplessness clawing her, frustration mounting.

_This is all my fault. _"I'm so sorry, Tara. I never imagined this trip could create such a mess for us."

"You didn't do anything wrong. We'll figure it out." She gave him a small, brave smile, which he returned as he reached out and patted her shoulder.

* * *

It hit her hard across the face, his as well. His touch connected them, let him feed into her memories. Her fears. Something she was waiting to be healed from. But he couldn't process that at the time.

The blow cracked open her top lip, blood spurted down her chin and the hand hit her shoulder, ribs, face again, before it stopped, making a ball of rage in the center of her chest, taking hold of the middle of her bra and fistful of shirt, pushing her back with enough force to rip her clothes and send her sprawling.

He yanked his hand off, hearing terrified pleas to stop, his heart thundering as he broke the connection.

Tara felt her face, her lip, tasting for blood, but there was none- this time. She ran a hand over her chest and yelped and turned as she realized there was actually a tear, her beautiful dress ripped and the bra cup yanked from the wire.

He unbuttoned his shirt hastily, protectively passing it over top of her as she curled away from him, turning his own face away to support that modesty. "Tara?" No words, just high-pitched wheezing, a terrified sound. "Tara, darling, please speak." He entreated, his own voice shaking.

She made a sound, but it wasn't words. _I don't want him to see me. See anymore. See what happened next. _

_ I never think about it anymore. I haven__'t since my birthday, when I finally got rid of him, when he left. Okay, sometimes there was a flash, but it went away. Willow kept me safe. They all kept me safe. I'm safe. _

_ Glory got me, I wasn__'t safe- she made think of it. All the worst things - but now it's like a bad dream. I don't remember what it was like anymore. When I got my mind back I saw Willow on the ground... that was the worst nightmare ever and I couldn't "wake up" from it. That was the worse second of my life._

Grief attacked her, silently shaking her shoulders._ So why am I thinking about this? New pain is fresher._

* * *

He stopped asking her to talk. _What sort of useless fool are you, asking her to explain, to speak. You know what that was. You need to find a way to stop this before it hurts her again. _Giles' voice muttered soothingly in her ear as he sat up in his undershirt, desperately searching through books.

Tara was aware of his movements, aware of his efforts and the comforting sounds like white noise in the background of her racing mind. _Is it because I'm alone with him? We've been alone for hours lately, weeks of making it look "real". If I'm supposed to be focusing on what needs to heal, shouldn't I only be seeing her? Willow? _

_ Maybe it__'s because I know- that there's nothing I can do to fix it. Willow's gone. I can't bring her back, I wouldn't even try, because she must be the most beautiful angel. I'll never forget her. Replace her. Stop loving her. Losing her is incurable. Maybe?_

Her mind frantically circled back to the question. _Why this memory? Now?_

_ It isn__'t because we're in a bed. What happened to me didn't happen in a bed. That wasn't about sex or making love, or anything like that._ Her stomach heaved once.

_Is it because I- I wish my dad had been good like him? I don't wish Giles was my father, but do I wish my dad was like _him_? Giles would never touch me- touch me like that. He didn't promise me or anything, because it didn't even need to be said. It shouldn't be like that between dads and daughters. Or friends. You should never have to say. Say you won't hurt me._ She shuddered again, a sob coming out.

"I- is it being so close to - hr hrm- a male?" He asked faintly. She hadn't mentioned this part of her past, and it needn't be anyone's business, so why should she, he thought indignantly. "I can move- well, I can move farther away." He kicked the cursed bed.

"It's not men. I had a boyfriend before that happened. And a girlfriend. Wh-what happened didn't make me hate guys. I wouldn't h-hate you, even if it did." She clutched the shirt over her chest and turned to look at him.

_He looks so sad. And his lip is swollen._

_ She__'s so forgiving, and generous in her spirit. Even in her fear, she tries to calm mine._

"You felt him hit me?" She asked quietly.

"I did." Two words, and a world of angry intensity at the brute. He swallowed. It was in a dim room, this room in her mind. The man was tall and thin, wiry and strong. And loaded with stinking liquor. He had no clear ideas, only hunches, of what, or rather who, he'd witnessed. "If I ever meet him, he'll be suffering a great deal more than a split lip."

"You did meet h-him." She confessed, huddling miserably back on her side.

He felt his heart crushed under mute sympathy. He recognized something, maybe. A glint in the dark, eyes that weren't sane. Mr. Maclay's eyes. He offered her his handkerchief in silence.

* * *

Flung back, on their backs, both of them, a hiss of zippers and fabric, and feeling her past self fighting her attacker off, only to be hit again, so hard, that she couldn't move. Legs parted over something- the back of a couch, and then the tearing, searing pain, repeated and sharp, in a place where pain had never been before.

* * *

"No!" Tara flung his hand away from her face, where it had accidentally brushed as she took the cloth from his hand.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry." He gasped and tried to recover his breath. He didn't have the same reactions she had. He guessed they were second hand, felt through her, and she was feeling them first hand. The pain and the shock- the sense of confusion and grief, all that he could feel. "Please... please tell me if I can do anything." He finally murmured. She shook her head and pushed her dress down, from where some sort of manifestation had clawed it up.

What could anyone do? Was there any "healing" from this, or just moving on, like she'd done? She tried to think, think of anything that would end this reenactment.

What had she wanted after her father had attacked her? Her mother. Her mother was dead at the time, and still was. She wanted to be comforted. Held tight. To go away and never come back. "I miss Willow." She sniffled, and didn't care if she sounded pathetic.

"I know. I'm no substitute." He ached to hold her. She was - special to him now, more than ever. The weakest and strongest at once, and the most selfless in the small ways. "I do love you." He whispered tensely. "Not how you deserve, not how you need, but I do. Very much." Giles heard himself continue, speaking almost to himself, "Even more so now."

He saw the ugliest moment in her life, and it increased the amount of love he had for her. No judging, only anger for her, and loving her. Willow had been like that, when she told her- without details- about the incident.

_Maybe the bed chooses what to heal. What to show. Giles was there when Willow died. He already knows I'm doing all I can to heal, and that I never really, fully will. He gets that. He's had the same thing. So he has to see this- the thing I never wanted to show or tell anybody?_

What was left for him to see, that he couldn't imagine?

She rolled suddenly into his arms, burying herself tight against him, waiting for it to be over.

He held her tight, head overs hers, eyes tight shut, two survivors waiting to ride out this storm.

* * *

The thrusting continued, tearing and painfully sharp, and a few efforts to resist were met with blows, less savage as he took out his brutality below. The final effort on her part, a giant push back against him, managing to sit part way up, was met with an even mightier push, sending her slipping off the couch back, careening to a hardwood floor, scuffing up a woven rug. A grunted cry of "Demon whore" and something hot hit her face as he stood over her for a second. She laid there, still, terrified to move, until he stepped over her. The screen door slammed and soon the sound of an engine broke the night.

* * *

"He never remembered. Or he pretended not to. I don't know. He woke up drunk in a neighbor's field. I was cleaned up and packed by the time he got back. He _did_ apologize for not coming home, said he'd been visiting friends, but in a town like ours- you knew when people are visiting." Her voice didn't even shake, but her cheeks were wet. If she'd looked up then, she'd have seen his were damp as well. "He passed out drunk in the truck, then came home. He didn't remember what he did to me. I couldn't tell him. He didn't even notice my eye. Or my lip. The way I was walking."

Sobs came back, and he held her tighter. Tighter than ever, and cried with her, in her hair, trying not to touch any places that hurt, and wincing inside, as he felt phantoms of her pain.

"Did you ever tell anyone? Willow?" He murmured against her scalp.

"No. Yes, about what happened to me. Not about- who it was." She confessed. A shame she couldn't put words to.

"Maybe you needed to?"

"I don't know. It doesn't feel better. It feels bad." She suddenly clutched at her stomach and remembered another painful memory.

Anything inside. Anything larger than Willow's slender, delicate fingers. The sudden fear of the stabbing pain came back. She'd stopped enjoying making love. She'd lost part of the ability to feel pleasure. It's a small price to pay to survive.

He blushed, privy to the images that conveyed those thoughts and realizations. "I hope you know that I- I would never press you, or even ask, to do_ anything_. Anything for pleasure, or even out of some perceived need to 'consummate'."

"I know..." Her eyes squinted up at him suddenly. "Maybe that's why it's okay to tell you. I'm safe. And-" this part was not meant to come out, and yet it was coming out anyway, surprising them both, "I think if I wanted to find that place again- the place where it f-felt good- you would help?"

_Help her how? In love making? Or by being her support system? By killing that evil in human form that created that hollow pain in her? _ He answered yes immediately, privately confused. Confused but willing, he assured himself. "If the bed is supposed to heal- it - it um-" he was flustered, trying to ask without offending, "is it that you - _can't_? Since that event? I would find that understandable."

Words failed her. She tried turing the bed's unique abilities to her advantage. This time, she deliberately took his hand and held it, closing her eyes.

His heart thudded guiltily. The beautiful blonde and the stunning scarlet haired girl he'd loved so much, at play, slipping between sheets, mere glimpses of thighs and hands, but he heard her soaring joy, the crying out in pleasure.

And another, darker moment, when their sexual experimentation ground to a halt, Tara's pain obvious on her face. Her hand left his with an embarrassed tug.

"Hurts inside. Not out. N-not everywhere inside, j-just some places. Sometimes." She explained shortly.

"I see." He closed his eyes. He had seen. And he felt arousal, hot and short lived, shaming him.

"I shouldn't have let you see." She realized, suddenly feeling a prickle of fear. _I wasn't trying to make him want to. I just- it's hard to say. _

"Shh. You listen to me very carefully, darling." He used the pet name with all sincerity. She was dear to him, and though taller and more womanly in shape than his other companions, she also seemed smaller, more fragile than the others, to be the most in need of protecting at times. "What you show me will be treated with every respect. Without assumptions." She nodded. "You tell me what you need. I'll try harder to be- to be a better husband and take better care." He let his eyes twinkle for a second in the midst of his seriousness.

"Thank you." She felt her eyes overflow with a different sort of tear, and she traced her hand briefly over his arm. "You're doing great. And you don't even have to. I know it's not- not really about husbands and wives with us."

Her touch, her words, his thoughts. He felt the same sense of helplessness she must've experienced, though his was not nearly so traumatic.

It still hurt. It betrayed secrets and humiliated him, as he felt memories flood, and knew His private moments had an audience.

* * *

Orgies in demon possessed states. He rolled from one woman to another, and like her damned father, didn't remember a thing in the morning, except that he'd been at the event, had the shagging, that he'd had the rush. He liked the hedonistic thrill as a teenager and as an adult he hated himself.

_Was I good to them? Did I know them? What happened to me, that I don't even remember? I was a tool of the devil, a demon in human form. He could have had me kill, could have had me injure, instead of simply "mate", and it's only some sort of divine protection that I didn't. _

He maintained connections with two women from his youth, though not necessarily from those events. Deirdre, yes, she'd been there from the beginning when they first called up Eyghon, and she died at Eyghon's hand years later. Then there was Olivia,from his reckless period after Eyghon and before Oxford. They had the most casual of flings, but they repeated it, sometimes once a year, this last time once a decade, and then- never to be had again. Scared off by the demons she never believed in before.

He was scared off of pursuing relationships for the longest time. Until he thought he might find someone who loved him and would understand his peculiar job and life. Who'd forgive his rash youth, and he'd forgive her misplaced good intentions that had caused more harm than benefit, and they'd make something work. He saw a dark haired beauty, with those sparkling, sarcastic eyes. Her wry humor and obvious intelligence as attractive as her sultry Romany looks. They had been about to make a go of it- his hopes realized, both parties forgiven. Then Angelus took her before he did- and he hoped to God the vampire only ended her life, nothing more vile. He'd only begun to understand it was love he had for her, suspect it might be what she had for him- and was robbed of the opportunity to give it or receive it.

The dark eyes and olive skin whirled away and sandy tresses replaced them. The next time he got close to a woman- a year later.

Joyce had been drugged. So had he. First time in three years he'd been intimate and he couldn't bear to look her in the eye after. But it had been good. There had been a moment of pure teenaged pleasure and excitement, hazy yes, but all his senses were his own, no one pulled his strings when he was with her that night.

They eventually let it go, for the sake of Buffy. And he thought that maybe, as they aged and survived "grown up" scares like college admissions and cancer- that they could at least become friends.

He'd been the second person to see her dead body, to find himself in shock and holding her child as she stood over an empty shell.

Certain parts of his life seemed like that, empty shells. He had a weekend with Olivia between that one night with Joyce, and the time when that window closed. That was an empty shell if he ever saw one. Casual, enjoyable sex, and exchanging a lot of memories, and ending with his invitation to make it something more. He offered it, even though he admitted he was not in love with her, simply cared for her. He'd realized he couldn't go on alone.

She left him alone anyway. Never had called since that week at his place. He didn't blame her. Demons that steal your voice invading your vacation could certainly cut off all desire to communicate. Permanently, it seemed.

Couldn't go on alone. He had been so sure of it. Yet, miraculously, he had been able to for this last year, slowly feeling more and more empty inside, as his world emptied as well, one life at a time.

* * *

Tara never realized. She had not known him for these moments, only meeting him as the events with Olivia ended- and she'd not understood what happened at the beginning. Seeing this much loss and loneliness, continual feeling of failure, continual realization that you can't have a normal relationship- it made her sick and dizzy._ And I don't even have to live with that. Whatever else happened to me, at least I found love again, and even without Willow here, I still feel her love inside me. I'll never lose that. _

_ And he__'s never had it._

She thought this secret sorrow was enough to share, but the bed had other ideas.

* * *

These other women in his life- so many of them, he felt constantly surrounded by the one thing he had missing. Buffy, Willow, Cordelia, Dawn, Anya, and Tara. Beautiful and young, and not at all for him. He didn't lust after them. He lusted after what they had. Youth and a chance to fall in love. To "date". To touch. He wanted that so badly, and couldn't tell them, it was unfair to burden them. And unfair to the women around them to try again. Look what happened to the three women he'd had any sort of relationship with since becoming an active duty Watcher. The only reason he considered this relationship with Tara was that it was a friendship, with window dressing, and she already knew about his life and the risks. The job, the Slayer and this little family, that it meant willing sacrifice.

Some nights, unwilling. Some nights, angrily letting go of finer thoughts and knowing it would be empty. Some nights accepting he would always be empty, and seeking out primal pleasures that didn't hurt anyone else.

Giles' gasped and tried to break the connection between them, as he realized what details were springing to his mind, but it wasn't working. They were too close, bunched together, so that even as he moved away some part of him was still touching some part of her. Which is why she saw what he was reduced to.

A bottle of Scotch. A rare night alone, in the chair that faced the telly, but the telly was off. A magazine, years old, one of very few of that sort he owned, spread open to black lace stockings on parted thighs, and his hand around his hardness, tipsily, frustratingly, releasing pent up pain and pleasure.

* * *

His belt snaked off, unseen hands pulling it, and Tara looked down in time to see his zipper pop apart, giving her the outline of him, large and thick, and trapped snuggly by boxers. She scrambled away, reading the sheer mortification in his eyes.

_I would never! Especially not now_. His eyes spoke mute appeals not to misunderstand, spoke volumes of embarrassment and something deeper, even more private. His lips, however, failed him. "I..." He couldn't even speak.

Nor could she. Her mouth dried out. What she failed to see in person, she saw though his mind's eye, as it rested in his hand. Much thicker and longer than she'd ever had, deep fleshy tones, uncut and heavy looking. Her insides hurt at the thought.

His insides hurt too. "I - it's not that I even need the sexual aspect." He finally managed to tell her in a hoarse voice. "I simply- choose it. Over having nothing, having no one to share it with, it... seemed the least harmful option considering what happens to women I've had encounters with. I miss - having- or maybe never having had- someone with me. Intimately or even companionably, who hm- loves me. British and a Watcher, I know I'm not supposed to care. And that makes it worse." He pushed layers of sheets and quilt between them, afraid to expose her to anything else in his baser nature that might come out.

"I understand. Sort of." She tried to relate. "It's lonely. You lost so much." She began to reach for him, but then halted, fingers curling away, hand sinking. "And- you don't think you'll get more chances."

"What chance did I ever have?" He smiled bitterly.

"Wh-what chance do you want now?" Her voice shook slightly. _I can't. Not with him. Or anyone. Not with him._ Her insides spasmed painfully, old scars throbbing.

_But we don't have to be alone. _

"I don't have words."

"Do you have- thoughts?" She reached for his shoulder again, and let her hand hover above it, inviting him to show her if he wanted.

He let her touch him. He showed her that's what he wanted. Touches. Embraces. Not necessarily sexual, but loving. Lingering. Lasting. Not ripped away. A chance for the aging warrior to just rest his head, pillowed above someone's heart.

"I love you, Rupert." She called him by his Christian name, and startled them both. "I want the same thing. For now. Just hold each other up until it feels better?"

Brilliant woman. He felt like he could sob, this time in relief, but he didn't. "God, yes please."

* * *

_To be Continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Union**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ A story about love, but maybe not about romance. A sweet little piece about two gentle people who love each other without being in love, trying to overcome regrets, fear, and loneliness in order to keep what's left of their lives together. Completely AU, after season five._

_Author's Note: It's a piece about Tara and Giles. I never imagined I would write such a piece, but the idea would not leave alone until it was written. If you find that wrong, bad, or in someway worth getting upset over, please stop reading. I don't write to make people sad, I write because I love it and I like to share what's in my head with people who are looking to enjoy a flight of fancy. _

_Author's Second Note: Sexual content._

_Dedicated to Ginar369, AGriffinWriter, ValidescopeWest, Writerdragonfly, Storywriter 831, __sbyamibakura__, TieDyeJackson, kitakana, Spikesheart, Omslagspapper, and rpfan1976- the support system keeping this piece going. _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** III**

He thought they must've slept, cocooned together. She was so warm and delightfully soft.

How would I know if we slept, she realized, feeling him stir, herself waking, her head sleepily angling towards the clock. No time had passed, not in this charmed place. She didn't mind for the moment. He was so strong. He held her in arms that were as tender as Willow's but harder and more muscular. She felt safe again, for the first time since her world was ripped away with one soul.

In her shifting, or in their sleep, her torn dress peeped from under the cover of his borrowed shirt.

_She has beautiful breasts. She is_\- snatches of visions, both bad and good reappeared, _she is beautiful all over. Scum of the earth that hurt such a beauty, that created pain for her in a haven that should know nothing but pleasure. _

He was physically reacting to her warmth. Or her softness. Or maybe nothing at all. Tara swallowed. Something hard was against her knee.

_It's not fair for him._ She did a quick tally of how old he was and how long he'd been in Sunnydale. He'd had two lovers- of the physical kind- in nearly six years, and both were brief encounters, nothing loving about them.

"Are you still reading my thoughts?" Giles asked quietly.

"No. Hey! No, I'm not." Tara blinked rapidly.

"That's significant. Maybe we've been shown what we need to help heal, and we can go." He reluctantly moved away, ignoring her hastily adjusted covers, hoping she was ignoring the rapid rearrangement of his hands in his lap. He couldn't leave the bed. "Dammit."

"Wh-what's left?" She sounded nervous.

"Not _that._" He told her firmly. "If we stay here forever, that's more acceptable to me than forcing- asking- you to - to _do _anything."

Grateful as she was, she couldn't help but wonder. "Maybe it's not 'that'. N-not all the way." Her pale cheeks were reddening.

"Oh? Oh." He felt his own skin heating up. He licked his lips, stumbling for an explanation or an elaboration, but stuck on the single syllable. "Oh?"

"You need a connection with someone."

"I have it. I do. We- this is different than I imagined it would be, and it came out from a very bad experience, but- I do have some sort of relationship based on love. _We _do, don't we?" She agreed silently. "And touch has been added, and that's an expression of love I had missed, had craved." He admitted, not quite able to meet her eye. "I should be fine."

"I'm not?" She wondered.

"I would guess not." He couldn't leave, so he must either not be cured, or unable to go until he performed his part for her. Whatever that part might be. "What can I do?"

She shook her head mutely, insides frozen in fear of what he could do. He could try to help her find pleasure again, he could try to prove that she wasn't broken. He didn't have to use more than his hands. She looked at them briefly. No, his fingers would create that warning signal and sensation for her, even Willow's sometimes did.

Giles saw the light die out of her eyes._ She must be spiraling back. Possibly wondering if she needs to put up with that terrible pain, and if I'll inflict it, under the guise of helping her. _

"No. No, I won't be doing that." He told her quietly.

Tara's eyes blinked back into focus at the sound of his voice, low and warm, a different tone she'd never heard before. "Giles?"

"You are perfect as you are. You don't need all of your body to behave as it used to. Bodies change, react to trauma. I am not going to try to 'force' your body to lower its shield. It has reasons to defend itself, and anyone who loves you, male or female, will protect and cherish all those defenses with you. It's what love does." He stroked her hair once at the end of his little speech, then lapsed into silence.

Her heart made an odd pulsing against her ribs. She felt it. Felt his love fill it up, and felt Willow's spot in her heart welcome him in, encouraging it to help fill in the bare spaces.

"The people who love you want to make it better, too." She murmured. _What am I saying, or asking?_

He swallowed. "I'm here to help you, I am. Do you want ... Is there something you want to do, now?"

She thought. "No." He nodded. She felt her lips moving, but it seemed like a while between movement and sound. "But maybe one day soon. I liked- I liked the part where we slept together. Sleeping." She blushed as she clarified. "I think I would like - to try. Just to try something- later. If you want!" Tara suddenly realized what she was hinting at, and like it was all up to her. Like he was a servant, made to fix her if she wanted fixing, to not get involved if she didn't. "O-only if you w-want." Her blush of a moment ago was nothing compared to the face fire she had now.

"I would be- honored." He said stiffly. Then lost his stiffness with an embarrassed smile. "A bit worried, too. I didn't imagine we..."

"Me either!"

"I never want to make you relive that pain." He spoke in a sudden, heated whisper, eyes narrowing.

"I would stop you. And you would listen. A-and- I don't think I can... f-finish like I should. Or you f-finish. Um. Make it good for you." _I don't think I can help him cum. I can't have him in me. He's Giles. And he's too big. And he's _Giles_... and he's actually the only guy I think I'd like to try with, if I ever try again. He knows it's not the same kind of love I had for Willow. It's completely different, and he won't push for more. But he could help, and I could help him. Everything hurts sometimes, and I just want to get wrapped up in someone's arms until I fall asleep and there isn't anymore pain. _

"If I help you feel better in any way, that's 'good for me'." He assured. And if he relieved the tension later, he would do it knowing that he could come back to curl up in her warmth, chaste or sensual. He would feel her love, and that would be gift enough. Less shamed, less animal. A man again, beginning to lose his empty spaces.

"Okay. I guess we wait until I feel ready?" She said awkwardly.

He considered. "Try getting up."

"But- we didn't do anything yet."

"You have a plan to help heal yourself, and it's based on needing more time. You've made a realization, but it's based on time and comfort level. The bed is outside of time, so- so try." He gently nudged her.

She covered herself with his cast off shirt and swung her legs over the bed, still tender from reawakened pain. She pushed off hard, expecting to struggle and not succeed- and toppled to the floor, outside the roped off area.

He joined her, bounding to the opposite site. "We did it!"

They hugged once he ran around the side of the bed to her.

He expected to feel mortification flooding back. Once out of a situation, all the moments that you found humiliating return. There was nothing.

She waited for clumsy stammering and a sudden urge to back peddle to consume her. Nothing happened.

"Wow. This bed is good." Tara realized admiringly.

"I think it's bloody awful." Giles resisted the urge to kick it again. "But I admit it did something it might have taken years of therapy and gallons of whiskey to achieve, and according to the clock, no time has passed." _Yet our relationship has changed. Deepened. Developed an intimate element that I like, sexual or non sexual, the intimacy is what's been missing. _

"C-can we still do breakfast? I'm hungry now." She realized. "Oh! I have to change." She looked down with a half pout. "I_ liked _this dress!"

"You change, I'll put the bed to rights, and re-stack the books."

"Once a librarian, always a librarian."

"Once a wicca, always a wicca- I've just realized I'm terrified to touch the ruddy thing, even to grab the books. Think you can charm it back to neatness?"

She smiled and muttered something, a few waves of her hand, and books flew up into their resting place, and sheets and pillows were rearranged to its former state. "They're not alphabetized anymore. You'd better get on that, right?"

"Yes, dear." He winked, and watched her move away.

* * *

_Wedding Night_

Tara was having (amazed though she was) a wonderful day after a terrifying beginning. The surreal experience was dropped to the periphery of her mind as both she and Giles tried to focus on reclaiming the day.

Giles wondered if they would mention it much, or even at all. He knew the experience was not something "forgettable"- yet it didn't seem to be in the forefront of his mind, or hers, if her actions were anything to go by. _Well- perhaps it's supposed to be like that. We're "healed" from something. Not fully, nor will it ever be something one gets over- her father's horrible abuse, my years of failing and loss. But like healing from any injury- you have moments where you're not aware of your scars. Like some medicines, at first the cure seems to make it worse, and then..._

"We're only here for a few days. We'd better make the most of it." Giles suggested with a sudden burst of energy.

"I'm ready." She grinned.

The restaurant they visited for breakfast served delicious food, the museum was fascinating, and they ate a picnic lunch picked up from a local cafe in the inn's lawn. Then they were able to spend an hour or two in the library's reading room, whispering away like naughty children as they found historical and magical oddities to share.

_Xander would say we were in nerd heaven. Well good. We went through our own private hell earlier._

"I made us a dinner reservation." Giles told her as they returned to the suite in the late afternoon. "We could go into the town before, if you like. You-um- do you need another dress? Or a- hr-hrm- bra?" He had seen private horrors and delights, and he realized he still couldn't say "bra" to her face without coughing first and reaching to polish his glasses.

"I didn't bring a lot of shopping money. I can sew the dress when we get back. The bra- I have another one. We're only here two more days."

"I didn't expect you to spend. This is your 'honeymoon'. The groom spoils." He smiled. "And before you remind me that I'm only a lowly magic store part-owner, Travers, for as much of a bastard as he is, did keep his promise to give me retroactive pay. Two years salary in addition to a raise, all came in one deposit."

"It did?" Wow.

"I paid off the mortgage for Buffy and Dawn, put some in savings, and there's still a good chunk left. Enough for a much more lavish trip than the one we're taking. I'll buy you a dress, and I don't want you to worry about it."

"I- I know we're 'married', but I'm still going to help pay for things." She warned him.

"Agreed. But not for two more days?" He raised one eyebrow.

Tara never realized that she thought he was very attractive when he did that.

* * *

"I'm full. And sleepy." Tara plopped her purse and shopping bag down with a yawn.

"I think I may have a lobster addiction." He confessed. They laughed. "Shall I turn on the fireplace?"

"Sure, that'll be cozy._ Now_ you need that sweater." The temperature had dropped sharply from a sunny September day into a chilly fall night.

"I think I'll put on sleepwear. If you don't mind? Not that I'm too tired to stay up. It's just been a rather long day." _And funny how we moved on from the worst part of it quite easily._ The memory of it was always there, but it didn't seem to create tension between them. Odd.

"That's fine. I will too." She let out a small yawn with a stretch, relaxed, at least momentarily.

They realized that the master bedroom contained the fireplace- and was her room, and that he needed to be in it to start it. She quickly said, "I'll change in the bathroom."

"Right." He nodded, and turned to the bedroom. He didn't notice she took her bags form the store in with her to get changed.

He didn't come in with her to the lingerie department of the local department store. She did replace the bra that was torn, and- on a whim she bought something pretty to sleep in. It wasn't white for a virgin on her wedding night, it was sort of a cream color, because she liked it. And maybe she thought they deserved the appearances. _What did your wife wear on her wedding night, Mr. Giles? _

_ A UC Sunnydale tee shirt and purple sweatpants._

_ Nope. _Tara finished brushing and washing, and put the silk gown that fell to her calves over her head, then covered it up with her robe.

When she changed places with him, he didn't notice anything different. He simply smiled and told her to go get warm, that the fire was roaring away, and he hadn't created an explosion like previous guests.

* * *

He had packed his "company wear". She'd seen him in undershirts and plaid sleep pants, many, many times. Yet, for some reason, he put on the good cotton ones, a matching set, and tied the red silk robe over it- his "Heff robe", as Buffy would call it.

He suddenly felt too warm. The robe off, the shirt off, the robe back on, tied tightly. Nerves prickled at him. This was not how he envisioned a wedding night.

A wedding night with Tara, he had that planned. Companionable reading, maybe a glass of wine, but not for romantic purposes, just to round off an evening. A simple "congratulations", a kiss on the cheek, and then to bed, in different rooms.

Now he had uncertain visions. Reading yes, maybe the wine, he had some available, and the kiss on the cheek, naturally. But to curl up in front of the fire, nestling together to ease pains they knew were there? To pretend it hadn't happened?

To do more than comfort while nestled together.

His stomach jostled the lobster, and he decided wine was a must, at least for him and his nerves.

* * *

Maybe it was the warmth of the fire, or the unfamiliar enjoyment of wine that made her relax so much.

Maybe it was realizing that there was silk against his skin, hers and his, that made him less cautious and more receptive.

They eventually sat on the bed, propped up on pillows, side by side, ignoring the television in favor of staring at the fire as they talked about what other attractions they could see while in Boston, about school and work and how schedules would change when they returned. They moved closer and closer as the wine finished and glasses were put on bedside tables, to lay heads together and sigh.

To turn face to face and find each had open arms.

"You were wonderful today." He kissed her gently on the forehead.

"You, too." She kissed his cheek.

"You've been so wonderful, and brave, for so long."

"N-not brave." She whispered.

"Very brave." He disagreed.

"Thank you. You make it easy to feel brave." She informed him, and loved seeing the sudden happy pride in his eyes.

"You don't need me for that."

"But it's easy- actually pretty easy- around you." Tara's lips quivered into a smile.

A moment where they locked eyes, and lips were close. He licked his. She swallowed. Somehow there was unspoken invitation between them, but he felt he had to make it verbal.

"Tara...?"

"Rupert." Her head tipped and she felt her stomach tilt as well, but she wanted him to kiss her. He obliged.

Giles breathed into it. Once lightly, letting her reciprocate. She did, harder. And he, again, harder. The next time her tongue entered his mouth and he moaned, unable to help himself. He pulled back with an embarrassed flush.

She was blushing too, as she pursued him, making a noise that was a whimper with a question mark. Her lower half in knots, some of them painful, while her upper half reveled in feeling his solid warmth beside her.

He kept his hands on her arms, and her ribs. When her hands stroked his back, he returned the gesture. Confusion and a sharp mind forced him to break the spell. "Only kissing?" He asked.

She nodded. Then looked up at him with half lidded eyes. "Is it okay if I ch-change my mind in a f-few minutes?"

"We can stop now." He reassured.

"I mean- m-maybe more than kisses. But not - Giles, I love you, you get that? It's n-not about that."

"No, dear, I understand."

"I think I'm afraid to - to do things that - might hurt. Or might feel good." She looked suddenly desperate.

"Darling, it would only feel good- or we wouldn't attempt it. But that doesn't mean we have to do anything. I won't do a thing to hurt you. I can always stop. I know you're not teasing me, or leading me on, whatever trite expression some men may use." He smiled at her encouragingly, and then with an almost shy look on his face added, "I'm not sure what to do either."

"I like when you hug me." She hinted helpfully, and he laughed and pulled her tight.

"I like that as well."

An embrace, a kiss. A string of those kisses that made him moan, and made her moan and gasp. He felt himself harden but didn't feel guilty. He simply reminded himself his release might be delayed. Giles noticed her own hips squirming, and several times her hand strayed to her belly. He didn't know if it was from pain or pleasure.

"Hot." Tara broke off one of those long kisses to push her robe off.

"It is." He shoved his own robe open- and then hastily closed it.

"What's wrong?" She asked, concern in her eyes. "Oh. Is it my nightgown? It's kind of- I don't know. Is it giving wrong signals?" _How can it? I don't know what signals would be wrong right now. _

"You look beautiful." He waved away her worry. "Unlike me." She'd seen him in his undershirt earlier, seen him in teeshirts many times. This was different.

"What? Okay, maybe not beautiful, but handsome. Very handsome."

He realized maybe he'd left the shirt off not just for the sake of being too warm, but for the sake of putting up some sort of defense. If he took it off, there was a level of intimacy- of exposure, that he didn't choose to share with anyone but those who "must" see. And he supposed a wife, in whatever sense of the word, must know.

He slid the robe open wider, letting her see- at least some.

A deep raised scar below the ribs. From fighting the knights after Glory. Edges of scars along his sides, one hidden in the sparse gray-brown hair at his sternum. Thick lines on his shoulders, scarce and faint on his biceps and below the collar.

"The back is much worse." He smiled grimly. "I'll keep it on."

"If you want to. I only see handsome, though." Her hand reached for his arm, traveling to shoulder. "You h-have nice skin. W-warm." She stopped short of pushing the sleeve off his arm, but let her hand linger there to give the impression that she wouldn't mind.

_This is bravery for her. I suppose I can risk a bit._ He let it slip away.

Tara hadn't considered that without the extra layer from the robe, that she'd be able to see much more clearly what he was feeling- in terms of the physical.

Giles caught her downward gaze. "It's not something you need to worry about." He murmured. "My reaction to your closeness doesn't mean I expect you to get 'closer' still."

"Okay." She breathed. _I want to. I want to be closer to him, to feel good things with him. I want him to help me. If I wasn't so terrified about what it would do to us. He'd never look at me the same. What if I start and push him away, freaking out? Or act like a total animal and he pushes me away? _She made another whimper, this one not of enjoyment.

"Darling, why don't we stop for now? Just sleep?" Giles suggested with a worried frown.

"B-because I want to do more. I'm just worried wh-what you'll th-think if I stop in the middle, or I want too much, or I w-want to do m-more. I know what you said, I st-still have the worry." She stumbled out.

"Don't you think I'm worried about the same things?"

"But you're so- good to me." _He never, ever done anything to me but be kind and protective. Even when he barely knew me. _Years of living with her father and brother had ingrained the idea that she did not deserve basic kindnesses- as part demons are less than humans. Glory's torture had brought a lot of those thoughts subconsciously up to the surface.

_Incredible. The embodiment of gentleness and goodness that she is- and all she's seen in my head..._ "As you are so good to me! Beyond good, beyond what anyone could ask for." He grabbed her hand in a single fervent squeeze before letting her go. They shared a smile of gratitude, of the simple, sudden happiness of realizing just how highly someone you esteem thinks of you.

Giles spoke first, breaking the silence that followed. "No expectations in this area of our lives. Shall we say that? We can decide as we go, to stop or push on." He swallowed hard suddenly. "As long as the decision is mutual when it's made, we can't do any harm." _I think. I hope and pray. _

"You're wise." She laughed softly.

"As are you." He sighed. "I think we're both more afraid than we'd care to admit."

And more eager, she silently added. The pain scared her. The idea of being close to him, feeling those missing pleasurable releases was eating away at the fear. "It feels so good-"

"After being so empty for so long?"

_He gets it._ "Exactly." She breathed. She moistened her lips again. "More hugs? More kisses?"

"Seconded." He grinned.

* * *

It was about the closeness, the warmth. The hugs and kisses. That was where it would stop, delightfully contented, soothed, laying pains to rest, at least for one night.

At least, that was the plan. Taking the robes off escalated things, though neither of them anticipated it. Why should they have imagined it, it wasn't as thought they were burning with desire, that removal of clothes would send some erotic signal for two people who had not thought of each other as lovers.

It was the skin to skin contact, feeling body to body pressure as they lost themselves in kisses and caresses meant to heal and comfort. Feeling something surge inside as loneliness found a physical remedy.

His hand had moved lightly, uncertainly, from rib to breast for the briefest moment, and she groaned in want, startling them both. Like those truly tired, they continued to move on automatically, seeking their rest. He let his actions become less light, more certain at her response.

He panted sharply when her hand slid down his back to his buttock, and into the waistband. Deliberate. More than a platonic comfort, finding skin that was concealed and was for private moments only. He waited for warning cries from one or both of them, but none came.

The coil of pain inside didn't stop her from beginning to leak juice. She blushed when she felt the tiny damp streaks between her legs, saw they were showing on the silk.

He kissed her blushes away. His own wetness marked the front of his trousers, and he realized that he had started to protrude. The feel of her belly against his, pressing his aching cock made him bite his lip, bite her shoulder and neck, gently of course, but anything to keep from begging her to touch him there.

"Y-you're really big." She whispered, head against his cheek, so he couldn't see her eyes- curious, excited, nervous.

"A bit wider than average." He admitted.

"Does it hurt? Now, I mean." She asked.

"Hurt? Hurt me, or my partner?" He clarified.

"Either, both."

"It's aching now, but nothing I mind." He soothed. "It's never hurt my partners, but- but everyone is unique. And this won't be going anywhere you find painful. I promise."

"I a-asked because I do. Hurt."

"I saw what he did. I'm not surprised." He gently stroked her back, hugging her more firmly.

"Not that. Not _just_ that. Hurts because I- think I'm almost ready and I want it." And everything was tight inside, nerves were on fire.

He nodded stiffly, afraid to show much he wanted that too. "Has -hrm- has it ever hurt before, when you're- when you're ready?"

"Sometimes."

"Does anything help?"

She nodded. "When I - you know." Her eyes skirted his. "But from the outside. No- um, penetration."

"Would you like to- as you said, 'you know'? But without the -internal aspect?" She stared. "I can leave the room!" _I might need to. I could use some 'relief'_.

"N-no. Unless you want to." Her breathing was shallow, stunned at herself. She wanted him there.

"I want to be with you." He was honest, breathing also uneven.

"I'm not ready. It- it was almost."

"I'm not in a rush. I meant... I would like to be with you. In your presence."

Not alone. "Stay with me." She whispered.

_Sweetest words in many a year. _He leaned towards her, then sat up slightly, as if suddenly thinking of something. "Should we put out the lights?"

She wanted to be able to see him- sort of a lingering self-preservation instinct. But she wasn't sure how she felt about seeing everything up close and in full light.

"The fire's quite bright, isn't it?" He helped her as she hesitated.

It was. And what some would consider romantic, she felt was simply warm. Warm and safe. Cozy. A protected atmosphere for what seemed to be some kind of re-birth and resuscitation for tired souls. "Th-thanks. That would be nice."

* * *

Lights out, flickering flames of the fireplace making them seem more supple, half-shadow, half-human. But she'd been worried about what they might see- she realized the sense of touch needed no light.

He knew she must feel him now, he was far from small, and harder than he could ever remember being, after months of being pent up. He realized he hadn't eased any of his tension since before Joyce had passed. Too much to battle, crises unending. Now he was relaxing, and that final piece of stress needed to be removed. Not necessarily now, in this situation. There were other tensions, ages old, and they were easing merely by being in her arms.

He held her tight, and she clung to him just as aggressively. He realized somehow that he'd shifted his erection to the outside of his trousers, while keeping them on. And each time her hands brushed him, he tensed, wondering when, if, it would happen, and what she would do if it did.

She made contact. She let out a little cry, and he grunted, feeling a shock ride up his spine. "Sorry." They both murmured.

"You shouldn't be." He told her.

"Good?" Her eyebrows rose slightly.

"Very. But this isn't about me, remember I'm here for-oh. Ohhh." An angelically soft hand cut him off as she gently gripped it, and pushed up and down. "Please- oh, wait." He panted, fighting the urge to tell her to do more, faster, harder, help him off. This was not about the carnal. "You do that again and I will - hrm. As you said- 'you know'."

"It's okay." She assured.

They both were silent. Words sinking in. _It's okay. What we're doing is loving. Safe. It's okay. So far. _

Giles' mouth opened slightly, a half-pant, an unformed protest and self-denial. "It's okay." She repeated gently.

"What about you?" He moved her hand, caressed her palm to elbow, and then held his hand there, stilling them both.

_What about me? I don't know yet. I'm not... scared_._ I'm just not _sure. "Just keep going." She breathlessly requested.

He obeyed.

* * *

In the dimness, her silk gown managed to climb above her hips, and her hands pumped him, then changed tactic and lovingly traced his chest, blushingly traced her own wetness, and trembled.

He followed her lead. He lifted her breasts and traced a nipple through fabric, making her arch her back and at that time his hand cupped her bare hip. When she only bit his earlobe softly and shuddered forward, pressing them together, he followed his instincts and began rubbing her thigh, then the cleft between.

"Ahhh. Ahh. Ahhh-oh." Her little noises made him hungry for more.

"My beautiful Tara." He said, and he meant it. She whimpered. "Shh, shh. Doesn't hurt?"

"No. Ohhh, no." She hadn't had another's touch, or even her own, in about five months. His hands were soft at the tips, with a lot of strength underneath, and warm, so wonderfully warm. Like the rest of him, further down. She reached over and made sure he wasn't neglected.

* * *

This is a form of making love, Giles told himself in his pheromone haze. His fingers gently, slowly teased and circled, manipulating lips and clitoris with a deft touch that left her bucking against his hand. Her fist curled lazily around him once moment, then gripped and pulled the next, keeping him on edge._ Mutual pleasuring. Manual manipulation, I think they call it. _She wasn't complaining.

He knew he was a good lover, one hold over from the cringe-worthy days of his early years- he had plenty of meaningless, creative sex that he couldn't remember clearly- but still seemed to know how to do. Olivia had praised him. Loudly. Joyce too, in her state, such as it was. "May I try something?"

"What?" She panted.

He met her eyes. "I've been told I have a talented mouth."

"So have I." She blinked._ But he can't. And I can't. _

"It's only another kiss I'd share with you." He murmured, honestly.

Sharing had been so long missed, for both of them. "Sharing with you feels... right, somehow."

"As long as it feels right." He whispered, and let her guide his head to hers, then down.

"I might n-not want..." She trailed off, and he rested his head on her ribs.

"Then it doesn't need to happen. Only an offer." He soothed. Something he knew could not hurt her, could not create the jabbing, thrusting pain he'd felt her endure. Soft and subtle caressing to give her release, that's all he wanted to provide. He came back up to her face, a kiss on her forehead. On her sudden smile.

"I'm sorry I c-couldn't."

"Shhh. I love all you do, have already done." Giles informed her honestly.

* * *

She had said they couldn't. He had not pushed. Yet somehow they soon were locked in that intimate kiss he'd spoken of. Maybe it was the relaxation between them, or his easy acceptance of her that caused her to break the kiss at her lips, and slowly, firmly, push his shoulders down, then lifting her hands to stroke his hair, trusting him to find his way.

He kissed his way south, pausing a dozen times to stroke some patch of skin and burrow briefly to her softness, luxuriating in the moment. When he reached the peak where tawny curls were now matted down in juice, he was slow and speculative. Making her pant. Twitch against him. Moan. Making her crazy. Before he made her cum.

* * *

He _was_ talented. His lips and tongue were seemingly tireless and he wasn't demanding. Just long and slow and thorough. She just lay there, groaning, hands in his hair as her thighs rode up over his shoulders. "Rupert. Giles. Rupert. Oh, oh, I'm going to cum." It was a shock, a sudden storm cloud bursting on her, as her eyes flew wide and then slammed shut. _I can. With him, I can, and it's good. It's so good, it's still good. It's now._ "I am. I am, right _now_!" Desperate, frantic little exclamations, punctuated with gasps.

He preened when she did, but only for a second. He followed those instincts again, scrambling up, holding her tight as she shuddered three times, then collapsed against her pillow, limp. "No pain?" He asked.

"Nuh-uh." That was not true, strictly. The orgasm was amazing, slow building, then hard and hot at the finish, all once consuming her. It was also painful inside again, like a fire had been lit and not extinguished. But there was no pain from him. "Love you." She said softly.

"I love you." It still startled him when she said it, and even though he knew it was different than being "in love" he still felt a rush inside when she proclaimed it.

"Let me do you now." She offered, not really sure what that meant or would look like.

"You don't need to 'return the favor'." He smiled. "Just enjoy yours. Mine can wait."

"Will you let me help? Whenever you're done waiting?" She fixed him with innocent yet knowing eyes.

"H-how would you like to help?" He asked, almost nervously.

"However you like it." She whispered.

He pictured her suddenly wrapped around him. Her body. And he saw pain on her face and the fantasy died. Her body against his might just do it. "I simply find it pleasurable to be near you. Against you."

"You're sweet."

"Like you."

* * *

Nudity came easy after his head had been between her legs. She used the feel of her body on his to try and reciprocate that action.

He let her roll on top, only mildly surprised now, and felt her roundnesses and curves slipping and sliding against him, stroking him with herself.

Her belly indented from the outside. He was harder and heavier than earlier. He seemed more sensitive as well. "Rupert- you can let go." She whispered.

"Trying to." He confessed. "More than ready to. It just suddenly seems- hard to." He winced and felt himself throb, salty liquid trickling from the tip.

"Privacy?" She offered, wondering if she was somehow putting him off, making it difficult.

"Don't leave." He shook his head. "May I?" He reached for her cheeks and she giggled and nodded. "Would- would you mind if I were against you- not inside you?"

The burn gave a sudden sear and yet the sear gave way to a hungry tugging. She wordlessly parted her legs and scooted up.

Scooted up, and scooted down. Riding the outside of her pussy without intruding. "Ohhhh, sweet Lord, yes." He grunted, grabbing her hips, her nape, her long hair, frenziedly adoring her. "Thank you, darling, just like that. Oh, _just_ like that."

"More." She choked out, arms tight around his shoulders as his wrapped around her waist.

"Yes, more and more." He thrust slowly up and down, careful not to insert.

"More!" She seemed close to tears, and he suddenly focused, looking at her.

"Tara- no, it's not needed." He protested.

"Please. I want to try."

"I can't hurt you, love. It'll break my heart if you- if you feel what you felt earlier."

"I want to try to wipe it away. I want y-you inside me." She protectively curled her head to his shoulder and rocked herself back into the rhythm of a moment ago, letting him decide.

"You said I was large." He reminded her, blinking at the ceiling.

"But he wasn't. He hurt me. You won't."

"No, I _won't!_" He declared.

"Then I want to try. J-just try."_ It feels good with him. Strange but not wrong_. Even if pain happened and they had to stop, she didn't feel like it would cause them problems. There was no expectation, so neither would be let down. "You make me feel better." She whispered into his collarbone.

"I feel that way with you." He breathed and nudged her subtly with his hardness, letting her know it was hers.

* * *

Shuffling. Soft grunts, helpful noises, groans from him that spoke to the heat and the tightness. Her replies were in kind, tense and excited little puffs of air that made out his name as she bobbed her hips slowly down, and managed to pull him into herself, just the tip and a bit more.

Tara leaned forward and rocked back and forth on him,not going any deeper, just trying to convince her body that she was trying to find that sweet place long closed off. He held still, held her waist, looking up at her with appreciative eyes, taking turns in closing in pleasure.

Her pleasure wasn't coming. It didn't feel bad, or good. Just new and yet familiar. She worked hard to relax around him.

"Too much?" He asked softly.

She hesitated. "You get wider the farther down I go."

"I know." Something his previous partners had been pleased about his slightly tapered erection that managed to fill them up completely.

"Maybe if I just- no! No, no." Tara sank down harder than she meant and jabbed the soft upper wall, before pulling her hips up with a panicked gasp. "I'm f-fine!" She blurted, but she didn't reclaim her seat.

"Let's try something else." Giles rolled to his side, taking her with him, preventing her from trying again. He read the fear in her eyes, and the frustration. It somehow felt natural to press his forehead to hers and lock his arm around her hips, running his other hand soothingly up and down her back.

"I'm s-sorry." She murmured.

"I'm not. You're welcome to try again any time." He offered, amazed at how easy it came. And at how with a simple little phrase he turned this wedding night experiment into an open door for their time together. He paused, watching her face, seeing if she'd picked that up too.

She had. Tara's tongue traced her lips as the words sank in. _Any time. We could do this again. This part- this is nice. This feels so good. _"Even if it's just this part?" She slid her free arm up his back and pulled them tighter together, chest to chest, comforted in his strength and breadth.

"Even if it's less."

"M-maybe if we keep practicing..."

"Whatever you like. For now..." His thumb gently stroked her inner thigh, and her hand easily returned to his shaft. "Ahhh, yes." He closed his eyes in bliss.

She loved seeing that, she discovered. That there was a moment when all the thoughtful lines and tense creases in Giles' face smoothed away, and he looked simply happy. Happy and relaxed. Content.

"I didn't expect this, you know." He told her for the dozenth time, as his voice came out as husky breath against her cheek.

"Me either."

His thumb rotated, stroked her round nub, and his fingers worked across her open, up and down, collecting her moisture. "I didn't think I would feel like this... happy. I thought I'd feel relieved, or worried about being caught somehow, in this 'sham'."

"N-not a sham." Tara corrected, moving forward, to his fingers, teasing her opening with the tips, waiting for the breach to come. "Different. But real."

"You're right. You always seem to be... oh- oh, hard like that!" She'd suddenly closed her fist tightly and pumped with all her strength. The reaction, or the accompanying gesture to pushing herself down on his waiting fingers, he supposed.

"Hard for you-..."

"Soft for you. I know, love, so soft." His fingers, the first two, stayed tight together, to make them as small as possible. She was tight and soft, buttery smooth inside.

_Inside. I've been inside her._ His hips did a spasm that he knew meant he was dangerously close.

"Ready?" She read body language well, the benefit of observing more than speaking. He nodded, teeth grit, eyes closed, his fingers twitching gently inside her. She wanted more, but realized he was letting her control the action. Her hips circled, slid slightly up and down, milking a spot that had been neglected for far too long.

"It's all right?" He gasped, feeling his fingers slipping in farther.

"Yeah." She gasped back, unsure why. Maybe because she was so wet, and she was doing the movement, and it had taken so long to build to this moment. The pain prickled warningly, but the good sensations were winning, at least for now. She gripped him like she was using him to anchor herself, maybe harder than she should, but his resulting noises told her it was a good thing.

He pistoned against her briefly, trying to keep his hand steady while his hips moved. Difficult.

She lost the rhythm, the careful, easy rhythm- and she didn't care. "Go ahead, it's okay." She moaned, letting his hand move in time with his body. Short, quick strokes, but not hard. Her hand matched his pace as her other hand suddenly gripped his shoulder tight.

They came together, face to face, her thigh over his hip, hands buried in or around one another, wetness coating them, his sticky, hers slippery.

She keened when she came, a long, high quivering sound that ended in a throaty sigh. He grunted out his release ending with a long, satisfied moan. He leaned his head to hers and they exchanged kisses, eager, congratulatory kisses as they untangled.

* * *

_And now the awkwardness should happen. _Tara panted against him, feeling lightheaded.

_Should this be some sort of break between us? _Giles stroked her hair from her face and planted another kiss on her cheek.

Apparently not. "That was really good." She said in a floaty voice.

"Amazing. Thank you. For sharing that with me." His words were somewhat formal, but his voice was soft and sincere.

"You, too." Her heart gave a little aching spasm. Growing pain, maybe? Healing pain? She wondered if she should pull away now, give him space. Then she recalled what she'd seen. _The last thing he needs his to feel me leaving._ She began to tuck herself to his chest again, then paused. "I'm - a mess."

"We are." He gave a deep, contented sigh, and she laughed.

"I never saw you look this relaxed." She marveled, ignoring the mess and cuddling in.

"I've never been." He realized. "Oddly enough- because we didn't spend much time together prior to this last month- time alone that is, I'm very comfortable around you."

She was rarely comfortable to begin with. Shyness, bullying, and anxiety had played on her nerves for years. She was not fully comfortable around the "Scooby gang" unless Willow was with her. She was comfortable around Dawnie. Now she realized, "I feel that way around you too."

"You sound surprised."

"I am! I remember when I couldn't even call you Giles, I had to call you Mr. Giles." She shook her head wonderingly. "In a million years- never pictured this." Her voice trailed off solemnly at the end.

"No. No, nor would we have wanted to." He stroked her bare shoulder. "Is it strange that I think about Willow, and feel like I have her blessing?"

"I think the same thing!" She sat up, pulling the rumpled sheet across her chest. "L-like, she would hate this if she was here-"

"_This _wouldn't happen if she were here." He sat up as well, reaching for his glasses, and then deciding to leave them off.

"But since she can't be... she'd want us to take care of each other."

He nodded. His palm cupped her cheek and the thumb stroked along her smooth, soft skin. "I had planned to be a good friend. A good 'roommate'." He swallowed, her head dipped and rested to his. "I'd like to be good at more. At caring for you, the way she would have." Her eyes widened and he hastened to add, " I know we won't have the same sort of relationship."

"No... but you mean we'll give all we can with the one we have." She murmured, eyes raised in a lowered face.

"More than a mere roommate, a casual friend?"

"Yes."

"Not more than you'd want."

"Or you." Her voice suddenly thickened. "I th-think she'd w-want us to be as happy as we c-could be."

"I know, Darling." He scooted down in the bed, taking her with him.

"Can you hug me again?" She requested, even though he already was. She supposed she wanted to say, can you just hug me, only hug me, hold on until the aching for her stops and I'm just feeling happy about how things are going again. For the moment, 'cause missing her never stops.

She didn't need to elaborate. "I would love to." He wrapped his arms around her. She let out a shaky breath and her spine seemed to collapse under his touch, exhaustion and relief taking their toll. "Just sleep. I'll hold you as long as you like."

"Hold on to each other." She replied.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Union**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ A story about love, but maybe not about romance. A sweet little piece about two gentle people who love each other without being in love, trying to overcome regrets, fear, and loneliness in order to keep what's left of their lives together. Completely AU, after season five._

_Author's Note: It's a piece about Tara and Giles. I never imagined I would write such a piece, but the idea would not leave alone until it was written. If you find that wrong, bad, or in someway worth getting upset over, please stop reading. I don't write to make people sad, I write because I love it and I like to share what's in my head with people who are looking to enjoy a flight of fancy. _

_Author's Second Note: Sexual content._

_Dedicated to Ginar369, AGriffinWriter, ValidescopeWest, Writerdragonfly, __sbyamibakura__, TieDyeJackson, kitakana, TessLouise, and Omslagspapper, my cheering section. _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** IV**

_Honeymoon_

The next day they toured the museum again, and drove into Boston in the afternoon to see the botanical gardens and have a "fancy" dinner. Tara had brought her camera and made sure she had waiters and fellow tourists take some pictures for appearances sake. And because, she realized, this was actually a fun trip.

"We ought to get a souvenir tomorrow." Giles said. "The plane leaves at 11 AM on Monday, but we really won't have time for sight seeing, what with packing and having to be at the airport within a few hour time frame." He squinted over the wheel. "Why don't they have proper lighting on these roads?"

"We're heading towards a historically preserved site?" Tara hazarded and he grunted. "How about a harmonizing crystal for your apartment?"

"We have to call it ours." He corrected.

"Oh. Right. We-we could put it in the living room?" She sounded hesitant.

"That would be nice. To symbolize our harmonious home?"

"Exactly."

Silence as he navigated that darkened roads leading towards the rural area, away from the city lights. "We'll move your things in after class on Tuesday?"

"Okay."

"Did they give you any refund for the dorm fees?"

"It was part of my scholarship, so no." She shrugged. "But it'll be really nice not being in the dorms. I hated the noise."

"Do I snore?" He asked suddenly.

"You didn't last night." She laughed. "Willow says I - she said I breathe out and make a humming sound."

"It's very sweet, that sound." He tentatively reached over and touched her knee. They had woken up in bed together, and had pulled apart lingeringly, but without anything more sensual than a prolonged embrace. He didn't want to presume, but he, especially parts of him, wondered what that night would bring.

His touch made her jump inside, but outside she didn't move. "I was thinking, when they come for the home interview- they do that at least once, right?"

"They will, yes. Possibly multiple times. I think one is scheduled, one is a short notice 'surprise without calling it such' visit." He answered.

"We could say the other room is for Dawnie. That she sleeps over sometimes. I think she will. If that's okay?"

"Perfectly fine." _But then where will she sleep? I suppose they can share the guest room. I mean her room. No, best keep calling it the guest room. _

"I can sleep on the couch those nights."

"Or you can have my room. That couch is hellish to sleep on."

She smiled. "So you, with the bad back, will sleep there?"

"Chivalry isn't dead, it's merely getting into middle age." He smiled.

"Can we share sometimes?"

"Absolutely. As you like."

"Y-you can tell me when you like, too." She informed him, feeling heat creep up her chest.

"I wouldn't like to impose."

"You wouldn't impose! You're comfy." Tara replied quickly.

"I'm comfy?" He felt like he should be offended, but he couldn't be. Another smile crept around his lips.

"Yeah. I think I'd like sleeping next to you- for just sleep. Or for o-other things." She suddenly became fascinated with the hem of her shirt. "You don't make me feel like I have to do things." She explained. "So you can tell me when you feel like- like you want me next to you."

"Then plan on almost every night." He let himself speak without thinking, as he beamed in the dark, hands now tapping happily, absently on the wheel.

"Sounds good." She rejoined, her voice cheerful.

"That does mean Dawn will realize- if we shared. While she was present." He pointed out, in short, hesitating sentences.

"I wasn't worried about her knowing." Tara's eyebrows raised. "I'm n-not going to go into details or anything."

"Do you think she'll assume we- we have taken our marriage to a more 'realistic' level?"

"Does it matter if she does?"

"No. I just wanted to make sure I don't reveal things you'd like kept private. Some things, obviously, are confidential. But our relationship?"

He wouldn't tell her secret. She wouldn't talk about his emotional scars. Or his physical ones. "I think they'll figure it out. Let's just tell the truth if they ask. We love each other. S-sometimes physically too." She knew they hadn't made that _fully_ true, but there were moments where she felt like it could become a reality. "I don't think they'll ask_ that_. B-but if they do, that's all we have to say."

"That's a very simple way to put it. I like that. Simple. Everything else is complex enough."

* * *

Another night of wine, and the fire, and silky fabrics.

"We should do one of the museums in the city tomorrow. An art museum, not a history one." Tara absently plaited her hair as it hung over her shoulder.

"It would only make sense, the former curator and the art student to go." He nodded, reaching over the edge of the bed to rummage in the nightstand's drawer. "I thought I saw some brochures..."

"Weren't they in your bag?"

"These are from the hotel, they had more local attractions- here, look. Institute of Contemporary Art, Museum of Fine Art, The Slate House- now, that's not art, is it?"

"Let's do the fine arts." Tara said quickly as he squinted at one of the papers.

"Agreed. Oh, they have a Dürer collection."

"Woodcuts. 'Death and the Knight'." Tara looked at him. "Is he your favorite?"

"He is, actually." Giles smiled. "When you grow up with so many gothic engravings and books full of woodcuts showing horrific scenes... his work seems familiar." He realized he was speaking to himself in a musing, faraway voice. "Do you have a favorite?'

"Frida Kahlo." Tara answered immediately.

"Really?" He seemed surprised.

"She painted herself fearlessly. I like that." Tara shrugged. "Plus, girl power. Not enough well-known women painters for other girls to grow up seeing."

"Hmm. Yes, I can see that. If I had to choose another favorite, I would say my second favorite is Monet."

Tara sat up. "Me, too!"

"The soft focus-"

"Blurry and sleepy-"

Their words stumbled over each other in the sudden rush of finding something in common. "It's soothing." They concluded as one.

"Yes." Giles sighed, blinking at her appreciatively.

"You get it." Tara gave him the same sort of look of renewed awareness.

"It seems we both tend to the harsher realities of the world first, and then we find a little peace." He removed his glasses.

"Art reflects life." Tara slid down on her side, facing him.

"They have one of the largest collections of Monet pieces outside of France." Giles sank down as well. "I'm so glad I get to go there with you."

"Me, too. I never traveled much."

"I have, rather extensively. I've become a homebody."

"That's good. You're needed at home." _Which is why we did this. To keep him home. Here, with us. _Funny how it was seeming like a good idea in general right now, as she slid closer to him, settling herself into his arm.

"Thank you for helping me stay." He whispered. His head lowered, down to hers, forehead to forehead. He felt his stomach clench suddenly, nerves he'd never felt before awakening with anticipation and coiling with restraint.

Tara felt the same sort of knots forming in her belly, the good yet nervous kind. Her hand found its way to his cheek. Then to tease the graying hair, eyes fumbling to his and away. "A-are you tired?" She whispered.

"Just -restful." He lightly stroked her hair, laying in a long, loose braid over her shoulder, already coming undone.

"Good word." She smiled shyly.

"I'm very content to simply curl up with you and fall asleep talking about Monet's brushstrokes or the atrocities of the Salem trials." He chuckled softly.

"I missed that. Falling asleep, talking to someone until you don't make sense. And then you laugh at each other because you're saying goofy stuff." Tara reminisced.

"I never had that. I would like to. Though I don't know if I become nonsensical or if I just stop speaking."

"I've watched you crash before, researching late. You make sense, you just talk less and less, and then 'thump'. Your head hits the desk and then Buffy goes and takes your glasses off." They shared a laugh.

He rested his head on hers, and felt her shift. Closer, not farther. His insides tightened. Restful or not, physical needs long denied sometimes rise quickly to the surface. Memories of last night- hazy ones now, just of the pleasure, not the emotional turmoil in getting to it- swam through his head and seemed to settle into his body. He shifted as well, closer.

"I... I." Tara began to speak and her words died away with a swallow.

"Are you all right?" He asked hastily.

"Yes!" She blurted, quick to reassure.

"Am I- too close?"

"No." She bit her lip. "Can- can you b-be closer?"

"Of course!" He pulled her tighter to his side instantly, and his heart did a happy stumble in its rhythm as she hugged him back, hard. Almost convulsively. "Darling, is something wrong?"

_I'm scared. A little. Because I want to be close again. Like last night. I'm scared because I don't want to seem pushy, or scared I'll suddenly think of something and then I want to stop, and ... and I know none of that will matter to him. He won't be upset. Willow won't be upset either. _

_ And it makes me want it more. Knowing it__'s going to be okay, after months everything being so bad, and _nothing _being okay. And it scares me how much I can want this. Want Giles. _ "How much I - how much I w-want to be close to you surprises me." She confessed, changing the word scared for something more friendly sounding.

"Oh. Oh, good." He inched his head back to look in her eyes. "Because it's mutual."

She reached up, impulsively, kissing his cheek, then his lips. _Love me_. Her mouth gasped out soundlessly against his cheek, lips forming words that he couldn't hear.

"Let me..." He smoothed her hair back gently, eagerly, touches light and fast, then sturdy and unmoving as he pressed himself to her, like a freezing man by a fire.

It wasn't like Willow. It wasn't like sex. It was like... sliding into warmth after feeling locked out in the cold for hours. She shook and sighed, and sank against him, burying her head in his chest as he buried his in the soft spot at the back of her neck, curling together.

_Protecting each other. Solace from the storm, like we held onto each other- was it only yesterday? As the worst of what we felt inside became something outside ourselves. And we held tighter. Not pulled apart._ "I love you, Tara." He murmured.

"Love me. Love me and l-let me love you." This time words were not soundless. Breathless, desperate, and very much heard.

* * *

Clothes were soon discarded. They pulled covers up this time, and bundled together, a naked circle of need and vulnerability, seeking to comfort with soft touches that turned to pleasure giving ones.

Giles was shocked at how easily it seemed to flow between them. Maybe this was intimacy born of grief and exposure, feeling left open also somehow had made them feel safe. _We've seen the scars, and we've tried to heal them, not cut deeper. _They relaxed together, simultaneously, as she opened up to him, on her back, simply, trustingly lying there.

_Knowing she's safe. Knowing she's loved. _He smiled down on her before kissing her lips.

_Knowing I can enjoy what feels good, and he will never make it feel bad. If something bothers me, we'll stop. I don't want to stop. I like this... _She kissed him back and rubbed his shoulder.

* * *

"This could become a habit." He mouthed his way from breast to thigh.

"We'll get so busy. I know us." She breathed out, eyes rolling back.

"That isn't the point. The point is - you're addictive." He lapped her once. "Honey with something else. Something nameless. Beautiful." Giles paused. "I didn't mean... it could become a habit. It doesn't have to."

She nodded. He resumed his attentions. She heard herself speaking, though her body was clearly trying to shut off her brain. "Rupert?"

His Christian name again, something she only used since they'd been close, physically close. It signaled something significant, he just wasn't sure what. Something private between them, something beyond their friendship, "Yes?" He rested against her thigh.

"If I never can- make love- will you care?"

"Isn't this making love?" He asked. "I do this with love." Giles whispered, a kind smile in his eyes, on his lips, reassuring.

"I love you." She whispered, voice full. "Not in love, but..."

"No one needs that to happen." He hastened to say. "Your love, as it is, is gift enough."

His words, always sincere, never aimed at her with anything but support, made her confidence come back. She spoke more clearly, explicitly. "If it's never anything but this kind of love making? If I can never h-have you in me," she bit back a wince, "it's okay?"

"Yes, it is." Giles nodded firmly. "Last night... last night you did," he felt his skin heat, but it was a mixture of sudden shyness as well as desire, "say you wanted me in you. Not that I'm questioning!" He shook his head quickly. "I only meant, if that wasn't- wasn't something you wanted again, you've only to let me know."

"I don't know if I do. It's new. Everything is kind of new with you." She realized. It was. She'd had a boyfriend in high school, a funny, sweet, first guy, more friend than lover, who experimented amicably and parted amicably, and a shorter lived successor who helped her find out that there was something missing, something lacking, why it was always like and never love. She suddenly thought she might've been wrong when she told Giles that she'd been with men before. She'd been with boys before, teenagers playing at adulthood. Rupert was everything... matured. Developed. It didn't change her feelings towards love or towards preference, but she began to see the difference.

"Everything feels very different with you." He admitted, watching her studying him. "A good kind of different."

"Comfortable."

"But not boring?" _Please don't say boring. I'm not in this for passionate trysts, but I hope I'm not dull. She's so... full of life, quietly. Like a silent spring that runs surprisingly deep. _

"Oh no. Not boring. Never boring. Just easy. So easy." She swallowed. "So easy to imagine things I c-couldn't even think of two days ago. With you they're safe to think, and I don't have to try. It just happens."

"What sort of things?" His voice was a low purr, not predatory, just pleased.

"Touching you." She ran her hand across his chest, and watched him shudder, eyes closed, tension melting from his shoulders. "Like that." She placed both hands on his shoulders, alongside his neck. "You're beautiful, too."

_She is a treasure. Something so precious and hidden. Quiet, elder soul in this youthful sunshine sweetness. _"I love you very much. More than I did two days ago. It comes on very quickly around you. Easily." He heard himself speaking before his brain could even consciously process the words.

"Yes. Yes, like that." She breathed.

"We'll make love. Everything will be loving, so it will be making love- however we choose to do it. Beautiful and safe, and nothing will hurt either of us." He closed his eyes, praying this prayer of union between them, asking all the entities magical or divine to make his words a reality.

"Amen." She spoke in the silence of his shallow breathing, somehow knowing something carnal could also be reverent.

* * *

Him on top this time, her thighs over the back of his, head bowed to her breast as her hands massaged the torn skin of his back and shoulders.

He kept the heavy bulk of himself outside of her wetness, thought there were times when they slipped, slid, and the tip sank to her entrance for just a moment before they mutually shifted. They maneuvered together, pleasuring with the parts intended for intimacy, without ever letting them complete the act.

The "incompleteness" didn't feel that way. It felt extremely needed, satisfying. Giles thought he might sob in relief as they melted together, not merged, but layered, the joy of having her cloak him with her arms and legs and feel her hands pulling him to her, never pushing away.

She hadn't known this pleasure before, from the solid heat, the thickness and pressure that could hit so much more of her sensitive skin at once, and how he- someone who had always seemed so unyieldingly strong, could seem so in need at the same time. It was wonderful to feel like a partner again, to meet a need and have hers filled at once. She stroked his hair, damp now, and whispered his name, rocking to him, cradling him in her arms, her breasts, and feeling something inside opening up, blooming again.

When they released, it was her first, and second, then him, a joyful explosion, and then an exhausted pawing, murmuring of thanks and double checking on well being. They automatically kicked off the heavy comforter, pulled up the sheet and knitted themselves together to sleep, reveling in finding fullness where there had been so much emptiness lately.

* * *

_It's not hard as I thought it would be. Perhaps because we're both naturally polite. Seen each other at our worst and lowest moments. Practically lived together, sometimes literally, at least for a few days at a time._ Giles mused on these things as he woke up beside her, watched her silently get up, pulling her nightgown to cover her chest but not putting it on. She headed to the shower without realizing he was halfway awake, watching her drowsily.

_I hope she does the feel the same. That it's not too bad. That's it's really quite nice to have someone that's... ours. In some form._

* * *

It was different. A happy different. Different than waking up in the Summers' house and feeling the world moving around her, including her, but not _for _her. Odd how she had missed it, even though she'd only had it for a short, beautiful time. Her family had revolved around her father's control, and her house was a place to escape from. Willow was more than a person, she was a life, a way of being. A way of knowing that when you woke, there was a person thinking of you, and you were thinking of them, and you had plans for the day together. They might involve ten other people or barely seeing each other, but the plans were there- pieces of your life, about you. About each other.

_ I missed being an __"each other"._ She wasn't falling in love with Giles, but she did love knowing that he was there, waiting for her, planning with her. Life seemed to stop sticking in the depths of loss and slowly begin to pull its wheels free. Moving forward again.

_I hope he's happy, too. With all the little things. Not just_\- she blushed. _Well, that's a lot to be happy about._ Her hands hugged her soapy sides tightly as she remembered his touch. _It's good to have someone else around. Not replacing you, baby._ She looked heavenward, blowing a kiss to the angel she was missing. _Just not withering up alone._

* * *

"What do you like for breakfast? At home, I mean, not out at restaurants. They'll ask about each other's eating habits."

"We see each other eat. All the time. I cook all the time for all of us!" Tara laughed as they drove, heading for another day of "honeymooning".

"But sadly, I'm not very observant sometimes." He admitted.

"Tea and something starchy. Muffins. Toast. I need carbs to get going." She grinned. "You drink coffee first. Then tea. You like wheat-y, not sugary cereal. If you remember to eat breakfast."

"Wheatabix. Or shredded wheat if the local shop doesn't have it. None of that frosted rubbish on it." He made a face.

"Lunch?" She made a mental note.

"Ham, cheese, and tomato. Sandwich. If I remember to pack something."

"Or you get something at the sandwich place up the street."

"Probably the same thing, only more expensive, fancy name." He shook his head, realizing he really didn't stop to think much about food or clothes, or any of the basics anymore. Life and death trump all that. _But one can hardly tell the INS that you spend more time researching demonic presences and killing methods than noticing what your new bride wears and what her favorite perfume is. _

"Perfume?" He asked suddenly. "Soaps, shampoos?"

"Oh wow. Aftershave brands, colognes. Are they really going to ask these things?"

"I don't know. That's the hard part. I don't have anyone I can ask, no other friends that have tried this, gone through this. I'm sure it's like any government agency you deal with. Some interviewers barely say ten words, I'm sure others try to grill you for hours like you're a murder suspect instead of a newlywed."

Tara moaned. "We did so good setting up a how we met story and how we started dating and the wedding..."

"We did." He agreed. "It wasn't much to fabricate, not really."

"No." It hadn't been hard to create "their story", because it was true. Met through a mutual friend, became part of his circle, when he had a shop, she applied for a job there, spent more time together, gotten to know each other better. Become very good, trusted friends, an age difference ignored in favor of all the wonderful things they had in common and the group of people they shared. Just friends at first, friends who'd been involved with others. They'd lost those others, and out of loneliness and grief, they'd come to spend more time together. They fell in love. Decided life was short. Whirlwind engagement, simple wedding, and now were joined together.

She bit her lip as she sank an inch in her seat. Only one thing in the entire story was a lie, and it was only the way that it was worded that made it untrue. They did not fall in love. They loved. They had for a time, there was no falling involved, and there wouldn't be.

If everything else, all these huge things, could fall in place so neatly, even in the face of a crisis and worlds tearing apart- then the little stuff could too. She sat back up, spine straightening. "We know a lot."

"I know we do." He reached for her hand, squeezed it once before he needed it back on the wheel. "I'm sorry if I'm needlessly worrying you."

"No, no. We're preparing. I get that." She smiled at him suddenly. "But I bet we'd be surprised how well we can answer a lot of things already. The hardest part is already done."

"Yes, the life altering moments. It's the day to day things, not so much the big things, intangible ones. We know that. I'm more worried about the minutia, remembering the favorites and the little habits, and the special events, special memories."

"We'll get there. We could have months before they even get to your interview, right?"

"Months. Or days." But he smiled. The way she spoke made him feel gloom lifting. _We'll get there. Months. Or days._ He frowned. "After it's approved- after six months to a year, I imagine we go off their active watch list, so to speak. I'd be a citizen in my own right after all."

"Mhm." She didn't seem to notice the change in his tone.

"Do you have plans? After graduation?" He tried not to stutter.

"Something tells me I can get a job at the store." She laughed. "But I have kind of noticed there's a high turn over rate in the local schools- the education department has a job board, and there's_ always_ something local posted. Teaching on a Hellmouth has to be hard unless you know what you're dealing with." Her light tone turned grave. "There's always subbing. It doesn't pay much, b-but I don't need much. Do I?" She suddenly looked at him. "I didn't really ask how much rent you wanted me to pay."

"None! I-I have the flat anyway, it's yours. It's ours." He babbled. "As long as you'd like. If things... if you the like the way things go."

"If you do. You're used to your own space."

"I want you in my space." _Now that I've compared, even for a weekend._ "Within reason." He admitted. "And I'll respect your space, obviously."

"But you were wondering if I was planning the end of it. Already." Tara spoke slowly as she put the pieces of the conversation together.

"I know it wouldn't be for awhile."_ But yes. I've wondered that._

"I don't plan on things ending. I didn't plan on things starting." She spread her hands helplessly. "Nothing between us was planned. The-the part where it's more than just two friends signing a paper and sharing a house. That we planned out."

"I guess wanted to remind you that in time, in quite a long time, relatively speaking, there's an 'out'."

"Thanks." She frowned. "But you don't want me to take it."

His lips were too tight for his mouth, tongue too dry. "No, I - I don't want you to take it. Unless you're unhappy, then I hope you will."

"I think I'm happy for the first time in a really long time." She confessed, eyebrows pushing together, wrinkling her smooth skin. "I wasn't when we came. I wasn't upset, I wasn't angry, I just wasn't happy."

"No. Nor was I."

"I don't want to go back to that."

"Then don't."

"We'll stay. If something needs to change, we'll change it. For now- we'll just plan to stay." Stay together. Don't leave. No one else can leave. Her hand found its way to his and rested there, waiting until it turned and gripped hers.

* * *

A third night of a flickering fire, this time lighting up a gorgeous pink harmonizing crystal in the foreground. No wine, none needed. No silky fabrics, just a cotton tee shirt for her, his pajama bottoms for him. They were exhausted.

"We shouldn't have stayed out so late." He groaned, shifting into the bed.

"How can we fight demons until dawn, but we suck at being tourists?" She pondered, checking her heel for blistering.

"I think it's the burst of activity vs. the duration. And no one makes you stand in line to kill vampires. One cannot say the same thing about purchasing souvenirs."

"Dawn's going to love the print we bought her."

"Anya will want to see the price tag on the earrings. Did you leave it in the box?"

"I did." She reclined with a flop. "Ohhhh. That feels good."

"Indeed." He sighed. Sleepily, a new habit formed, he stiffly rolled to his side, and pulled her to him for a hug, kissing her brow, her cheek and the spot below her ear before resting his head alongside hers.

"Good night." She yawned, kissing him back, in the same tender, absently automatic way.

"Good night, darling." Giles felt her tuck herself into a shell-like pose, and he turned with her, spooning. He was about to ask if it was comfortable for her, when she answered him.

"Mmmmm." A happy, contented sound. Her hands draped over his.

_This is more of how it will be. _He drifted to sleep reflecting. Passionate acts, loving acts, of course, they would be infrequent. And that was fine. This was the real stuff of life. The companionship, the comfort of simply knowing the other person is near. He let out the same contented sigh as his eyes finally closed.

* * *

He dreamed she was making love to him. Her body pressed to his, on top of his, under his, a tangle of limbs, and being buried inside. Oh yes, fully inside, and both were pain free, surging in orgasmic waves. He dreamed his scars were wiping off under her fingers, and hers were melting from the heat of him thrusting into her. Not hard. Not fast. Slow and steady, like their pseudo-coital massage. She called his name, so sweetly, as he burst inside.

* * *

"Rupert. Rupert." Sleepy murmur, coming more alert. She was reaching for him in her sleep, and her hands kept going as she woke up.

"Tara." A delighted, waking gasp. A dream coming true. Sort of.

"Mm?" She burrowed into his arms, and he rolled with her, on top, on bottom, kissing her in the early morning light peeping through curtains.

The fireplace had long since shut off. The outside sky through the curtains turned the room a heather gray, cold-washed.

They made their own heat.

"Please..." One word from him, a whole tome of meanings. _Please don't let this end. Please let us have one more moment together before we go back to the hectic world we came from. Please love, please touch, please be the sweet comfort I'm coming to depend on. _

"Please, yes." She nodded, breathing out, into him. Please don't let the world go back to empty again.

* * *

This was different. This was feverish, desperate, an edge of a sob in their breathing, hands more reckless as they grabbed and positioned.

Not in her the way he'd dreamed, but- _Oh my God_. Her mewling little gasps as she kissed him were leading down his throat, to a nipple- _oh Sweet God_, she was right, she did have a talented mouth. It played across the scar at his breastbone, across the scar in his firm lower abs that lacked definition but not solid muscle and then, with a needy little gulp, she took him in her, in that perfect, loving mouth.

She giggled when he let out a strangled sound that might have praised God, or might have been profanity, she couldn't tell. But her giggles made him do it again, the sound filling her mouth and rippling over his skin.

It was only a moment, part of the package of hungry kisses that he returned, just as intimately, before they repeated the coupling embrace of their last encounter, thrusting together, but not inside.

* * *

"I was- dreaming- of you." He panted as he fell back, sweating, wiping at his chest with the sheet.

"Me too. I think. I missed you. Called for you." She sat up, rubbery legged. "Oh wow, we have to get ready to check out." She caught sight of the clock.

"I know, but I can't move yet." He laughed.

"If I fall, don't laugh." She giggled back.

"I was a little over enthusiastic." He admitted.

"It was good." She smiled. The smile turned bashful. "You were dreaming of me?"

_Oh. Perhaps that sounds bad. Too infatuated, too demanding? But it's true. _"Yes."

She looked at him. Half covered, watching her with something like worry in his eyes, face trying not to show it. Is it scary to become something so important to someone, so fast?

Not if it's mutual. "Was it a good dream?"

"Very."

"Mm." She smiled, something like a smirk, pleased, but afraid to seem too overconfident. "I'll be done soon." She slid from the room.

* * *

One more breakfast, one more stop in the reading room, one more drive in their rental, and then the tedium of the airport before they boarded their flight. "I'm going to miss this place." Tara sighed. "I haven't taken a vacation in- wow. Since I was twelve."

"We can come back. The Hellmouth can get by for a weekend a year, don't you think?"

"In the summer."

"We could go other places."

"Other magical historical sites?"

"I will consult the Council and even the dreaded box." Giles teased.

"That's good husband material." She teased back.

"Hm. Should we have called to check in?"

"I don't think so. Honeymooning people probably don't."

"Ah, that's probably true."

"Do you think they'll be waiting for us at your place? Our place." She asked.

"Hmm. Not likely. But you never know." He thought of his flat, his last minute efforts to tidy it up and make it look less like a hold all for papers, a place to shower and change, and more like a home. It was at least cleaner. Papers were in stacks.

"What're you thinking about?" She whispered, mindful of other passengers.

"I cleaned up a bit on Wednesday night. I hope it looks better."

She cocked her head. "Giles- I've seen it messy. I've been trapped in there for a couple days at a time, and probably spent as much time there as my dorm in the last semester."

"But it's yours now."

"Ours. We have to practice saying that." She fretted. "But don't worry about how it looks!"

"I just wanted you to know I did make an effort."

"That doesn't surprise me. You do a lot of things no one notices." Tara murmured.

"And you do things all of us notice. The cooking, the cleaning, the shoulder to lean upon, even when you ought to be looking after yourself. Dawn's favorite and most trusted ear."

"I'm tied for Spike. Crazy as that sounds." Tara shook her head.

"You're worth the effort. The little things, that as you say, no one might notice."

Her heart fluttered. Everyone around her loved her now. She knew that. But she felt like his simple words were special, made her feel special. No one had made her think of herself like this since- Willow. Or before Willow. "You made me very happy. Wi-Willow too." She said suddenly, voice thick.

"Oh, darling." He put his arm around her shoulders without thinking, and she laid her head on him. "I didn't mean to make you sad."

"I just said happy!" She laughed through unshed tears. "Wh-when you said your vows and you added that part- about being a-

"A worthy successor?" He remembered the words that had come to him, unrehearsed.

"You really are being one. No one would have figured... not with who I was with before, or who you were with. But you are."

"Thank you. That means more than you know. I loved Willow so much." He blinked suddenly. "I couldn't believe when- I thought it would be Buffy. Or Dawn. I didn't want it to be of course, not any of you. I hoped it would be me, if it had to happen. She... there's such a hole." His own voice was barely audible, pain choking him. "You don't realize how full life is because of one person until they take that person from you."

"We didn't get to say goodbye. Right." Tara whispered, voice barely reaching her ear, to the rest of the world looking like lovers whispering tenderly.

"What Glory did to you was unspeakable. The timing could not have been worse."

"What she did to _everyone_ was unspeakable. But- n-no one knows that Willow and I had a fight. Before she left, and I went to the multicultural fair on campus, and Glory found me on that bench."

His body tensed, adrenaline pumping suddenly. No. No one had known that. Months gone by and she'd never said. "A fight?"

"A silly fight. No, not silly. I- we'd never had a fight, over anything, and it got out of hand. And she was so amazing. So powerful, and so involved with Buffy and everything about Glory and fighting evil. It _did_ scare me. How fast she could change. Do things that I never even tried." Tara spoke aloud, unburdening herself to him without full awareness of what she was saying.

"She was brilliant. And you're right. I've seen sides of her that could be so brutally different, under the sweetness and the innocence. She was powerful, and she didn't even realize how much. That is frightening, if you love someone."

"She didn't see it."

"No. No, she didn't."

"She was used to others looking at her, treating her like some nerd, some outcast. When she thought she could change it-"

"She saw what she wanted to do, or be."

"And that- th-that was something I said. That I wondered- I mean, I didn't_ say_ it. She guessed I was thinking about it, and even though I w-was, I didn't mean it. I was just scared and I was telling her. I told her. She got so mad. She stormed out."

_What could she possibly have said? Or guessed? That Willow's magic had a dark edge? That she'd tap into something evil to try to defeat Glory, that she would ultimately tap too far in and in the battle, she'd lose her life? Tara couldn't have know that, even with all her intuition._ "A misunderstanding." He nodded.

"She told me I was the only woman she'd ever fallen in love with. I- was stupid. I wondered if maybe I'd be the only one, because then she'd fall in love with a guy. Like she had the other times. People experiment. I did."

"But she did love you. And Willow wasn't experimenting, no, Darling, I know that. She may indeed have been able to love both males and females, but it wasn't fickle, based on some urge for body parts. She chose you. She loved you."

"That's true. So that's why she was mad. That I doubted. I wish she could have gotten it. That I was just scared to lose her. I never had someone like her before. Never will again." She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes quickly. "I believe she knows it now."

"She knew it then, she may just have needed time to calm down. Anger clouds thought." Giles reassured. "And when you were ill, she poured all her love into caring for you. I don't know if you were aware of it, but she did."

"I was aware. I could feel it. I was trapped in a bad place inside myself, but I could tell she was there, loving me. And I couldn't get out to explain to her. To tell her it was all just worrying and all she meant to me..." Another swipe across her eyes. She swallowed several times. "When I 'woke up', she was gone. No making up. No goodbye. Not with both of us really 'there'."

"Love like yours transcends the normal channels of communication." Giles told her firmly. "Willow knows. And you know. These states of life and death do not alter your ability to love. That is something _I _know."

"Thank you." Tara wrapped her arm across his chest and he pulled her into a hug, a half one, mangled by armrests and seat belts.

"You're welcome." He replied, unsure what else to say.

Silence. Breathing and emotions trying to return to normal. "It's like she's showing me now."

"What?"

"That she loved me. That I didn't understand."

"Understand?" He felt lost.

"I chose her. Then I chose you. You're not an experiment. It's out of love. But it wasn't about the gender. It was about the person. She never would have left me. I never would have left her. Without a choice- well, our choices change."

"You... you choose me?" His already low voice changed, more insistent. "You don't have to feel that way, Tara. This isn't a romantic inclination, a choice of partner- well, not as you're saying."

She looked at him, wet eyed but steady. "It's not just about papers and appearances anymore. Papers don't make us - want to do the things we've been doing. Papers can't make you love someone."

His mind whirled. "But... we're not moving on. We don't need to force ourselves."

"I'm not. I'm not moving away from her. I'm not forcing anything."

He listened to her. What she said, and what she left out. She wasn't changing how she felt about Willow. But perhaps there had been a change in the way they felt towards each other. A choice they made as friends, and had allowed to deepen. Still friends. Some sort of very special friend, partners in life and ending loneliness. "Well, then thank you for making the choices you have. And including me in them."

"Mmhm. Things are better with you." She reminded him, sitting up. "Sorry I cried on your shirt. You're soggy now."

"I don't mind. Your hair may have a few traces of tears as well." He cleared his throat.

"Sir, Ma'am? Beverages?" The steward stopped at their seats, and halted their conversation.

"Oh, yes. Yes. A water, please."

"Orange juice." Tara requested. They waited until the cart moved on to speak again.

What could they say? So much transpired in so brief a time. Giles raised his bottle to her plastic cup.

"To a happy wedded -if unconventionally so- life."

"A happy life together." Tara smiled at the man she was finding to be a true best friend, and more.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Union**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ A story about love, but maybe not about romance. A sweet little piece about two gentle people who love each other without being in love, trying to overcome regrets, fear, and loneliness in order to keep what's left of their lives together. Completely AU, after season five._

_Author's Note: It's a piece about Tara and Giles. I never imagined I would write such a piece, but the idea would not leave alone until it was written. If you find that wrong, bad, or in someway worth getting upset over, please stop reading. I don't write to make people sad, I write because I love it and I like to share what's in my head with people who are looking to enjoy a flight of fancy. _

_Author's Second Note: Sexual content. And wordy. Soooo wordy. I warned you. Skim if you gotta. _

_Dedicated to Ginar369, AGriffinWriter, Sirius120, ValidescopeWest, Writerdragonfly, __sbyamibakura__, TieDyeJackson, kitakana, DennisJayHawthorne, TessLouise, and Omslagspapper, my cheering section. _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** V**

_Homecoming_

"When's your first class again?"

"It's not until ten, but I need to get to the bookstore early." Tara juggled her purse and suitcase as Giles fumbled for keys and struggled to get the right one in the lock.

"I asked Xander to leave the light on." He groused.

"Well, my car's in the parking lot, so at least someone remembered to drive it over."

"Oh, that reminds me, we ought to have keys to both cars. And you need a key to the flat-"

"You already gave it to me."

"That's right." They stumbled inside. "They better not be waiting to spring out and yell 'surprise'."

"Buffy has class tomorrow, and Dawn's first day of school is tomorrow, too. Oh my gosh, I hope she's not stressing. I should have called."

"Honeymooning couple." He reminded her, flicking on lights. "Good, at least Xander brought in the mail."

"I have to do change of address forms."

"Didn't you do that?"

"With the post office, but not my credit cards or the college." Tara stood behind him, holding her bags, not quite sure where to put things. "And insurance, my license..."

"I'm sorry. It's rather a headache for you." He apologized, putting the stack of mail down. Only two days worth, and nothing of importance.

"It's okay." She shrugged. "Um. When I'm here, I usually put my purse on the table, or by the door, 'cause I'm planning to leave. Where should I keep it?"

"The coat rack?" He suggested.

"Oh, good idea."

"And I'll take your bag, so sorry." He tsked at his lack of manners, tired and preoccupied though he was. He took it from her hand, reclaiming his own, and marched up the stairs. Then paused. "Ah."

"Yeah." Tara followed him with her eyes as he paused halfway to his bedroom, kept in the open loft space of his flat.

"Would you like this downstairs?" He referred to the "guest room".

"N-no. No, is there room in your closet for more things?" _My things? Great. Now there's the weird, nervous feeling again._

"Of course!" He had known they would have to at least combine some of his wardrobe and hers, appearances once again, not knowing if a "home interview" was code for "search the premises". He didn't have much to begin with, never a slave to trends and fashion. "Plenty of room."

As quickly as it rose, the nervousness faded. "Let me put things away with you. Then I'll know where they are. There's a desk in the other bedroom, isn't there?"

"A little one, more of a table with drawers."

"I'll keep my stuff for class in there, and I can work in there sometimes. Dawn can do her homework there if she wants when she sleeps over. The other things..."

"Sharing a room would be the opposite of a hardship for me. In case you're wondering." Giles said, eyes ahead as she joined him on the stairs, heading up to the loft bedroom.

"I know we said we would need space."

"Take as much as you need. I'm only letting you know that- I do really want this to be ours." He darted a glance over his shoulder.

"We could always go sleep in the other room. I mean one of us c-could. If we get restless."

"Exactly."

"B-but I sleep better with you next to me than I have since Willow- without Willow." Tara put her suitcase on the bed.

"More at peace than any other time in my life." He put his own bag on the floor. "I'd never push you."

"I know that." Her smile outshone the soft lighting of the single lamp he'd turned on in the corner. "It's why I want to." _It's why I want you._ Her insides clenched and her mouth shut, head dipping in sudden shyness.

"Thank you." His own insides were doing a recently familiar dance, restraint and urges warring. tightening him in various places, breathing seeming to come out unsteadily. "Are you tired? Hungry? If you want to unpack, I'll go whip up something simple." _I'll put some distance between us. Give us time to find normalcy, a routine of moving about each other, with each other. _

_ Then we__'ll sleep in the same bed. _His mind shunted off that track, tired of the strange paradox he was making.

"We should eat, huh? Busy day tomorrow."

"I'll call Buffy and let her know we're home while I'm puttering about in the kitchen. Some tea? Eggs?"

"Toast, too?"

"Of course. I might even have sausages."

"Sounds yummy. Tomorrow night, I'll cook."

"Lovely. We'll take turns. On the nights we're home." They exchanged a rueful smile. A night at home with time to simply cook a meal would be a luxury considering their lives.

"Deal."

* * *

"You're home! Should we come over now?" Buffy's voice scorched the phone lines with its pure jubilation.

_I haven't heard that tone of voice in so long. I guess this marriage started healing more than just my own wounds. _ "No need, but we'll see you tomorrow after your classes. Any news while I was gone?" Giles cradled the phone on his shoulder, beaming himself as he poked four fat sausages into the pan.

"Umm, I took Dawn back to school shopping, and Spike had to physically restrain us from the shoe racks. We helped Anya at the store for a Labor Day blowout special sale thing. She made a ton of money. You have to restock."

"Hardly surprising, on either count. Any news of the more dire and evil nature?"

"Two vamps, nothing special. I think we were all a little more worried about you and Tara. Are you uh- okay? Did you have a good time?" Buffy looked over at Spike who'd made a rude sounding snort.

He hesitated. _We had a hellish time of great emotional pain and suffering, many tears and fears shared. It was nothing like any honeymoon I've ever heard of. And it's all private. It's between Tara and I. My wife and I. Dear Lord, that's going to take a bit of getting used to._ "We saw an amazing collection of Colonial artifacts, went to the botanical gardens, the historical district in Boston, the Museum of Fine Arts- and yes we did bring home presents."

"Aww. Good. It went okay. You- you really did have a nice time together? Both of you?"_ If they didn't, I'm going to blame myself. I know I never said anything to either one of them, but what if it's my fault, because I thought about it so hard? Can Slayers send brainwaves if they're upset enough? _

Giles put her out of her misery. "As you said, we have a surprising amount in common. Friendship- or even love, Buffy, isn't based on age." He broke four eggs in a bowl and whisked as his voice took on a slight edge.

"Uh, preaching to the choir here, Giles. Sharing a house with the undead. And old."

"Oi!"

"Welcome home dinner tomorrow night, okay? Seven?" Buffy ignored the exclamation from Spike.

"We have to move Tara's things in."

"Well they're all here at the house, so dinner, then moving. C'mon, I'm going to try to cook something. Spike's helping."

"I don't whether to be more alarmed about you or him cooking." Giles confessed.

In the background, Spike growled, then demanded, "Gimme the bloody phone, Slayer."

"Tell Spike I said hello." Giles smirked as he heard the beginnings of a hissing argument.

"Giles! Can I put your socks in with the um- with the stuff in the top drawer?" Tara's voice drifted down.

_She can't say boxers and briefs, but she's held what's underneath them. And I can't say "bra" without polishing something, despite the fact that I've laid my head on her chest three nights running. Surprisingly well matched, aren't we? _

"Yes, that's fine! Feel free to condense! I could take the top two and you have the bottom three?"

"The bottom drawer has locked boxes in it and I think one of them has an Ottoman Empire era talisman on the front!"

"Oh, right, the dangerous things I can't leave out in front of certain people." He rolled his eyes.

"Are you talking to us? Are you talking about me?" Buffy stopped her spat long enough to ask. "Wait, where is this stuff, and what is it?"

Giles sighed._ I would miss this if I left it. But a few days a year away from it all wouldn't hurt... _"Buffy, I'll see you tomorrow, and everything went very well. We just need to try to set up the flat a bit."

"Right, got it. Has to look like it's not your swinging bachelor pad anymore."

"Ha ha."_ You've no idea just how empty this place was, even as full of your laughter and our friends as it often was. _"Goodnight, dear. Kiss Dawn for me. Tara can call you back if you want."

"No, it sounds like you guys are busy, and I know you were on a plane for a long time. Rest up and stretch out."

"See you tomorrow."

"Love you."

"Hrm. Love you." He hung up with a grin. "Will the third and fourth drawer be enough?" Giles called up the stairs.

"I think so!" Tara sat back on her heels, finishing putting away her meager stock of clean clothes left from her suitcase. "I need to do laundry."

"Go ahead and run a load. Soap is on the shelf over the dryer."

"Want me to put anything of yours in?"

"Thank you, Darling, whatever's in the bag. Only watch for the things marked 'dry clean only'."

She grabbed an arm full of their combined washing, trotted down the stairs, in time to see him laying out two plates on the surprisingly uncluttered dining room table, the emptiest she's ever seen it. "Wow. You_ did_ clean."

"I told you I'd made an effort." He unbuttoned his shirt hurriedly, revealing a white short sleeved undershirt. "Can you toss this in?"

"Yep." She caught it on top of the pile.

"Dinner in just a minute. Oh, the toast." He returned to the kitchen, putting in two slices. _This feels very domestic. Too domestic. Too easily_. _Maybe it seems easy to me. _"Tara?"

"Hm?"

"Are you- settling in all right?"

Tara smiled to herself. _Only been here a half hour. But it feels like home. More like home than Buffy's. Or the dorm without Willow. Or before Willow_. _More like home than my father's house. _She hadn't thought of it as_ her _home since her mother died, and she felt like the only safe place was her own bedroom. "I'm fine. I like it here. I always feel at home here."

"Good." Giles let out a silent sigh of relief.

"It's different though."

"Well, yes, it would be. A bad different, a good different?"

"Good. Although I miss Buffy and Dawn. And Spike. Mostly. I know that they'll be around a lot."

"Separate houses never seemed to stop us before." Giles grinned and began pouring the tea.

They sat across from each other, weary looking yet somehow relaxed. "You know what?"

"What's that?"

"This feels better in a way. There's more space. Like not just a room, but- the whole apartment. I-if that's okay."

"You mean the run of the place? Obviously, it's ours. Together."

"That's the better part. At Buffy's, it's not like I didn't have the freedom to go all over the place. You just felt like you didn't want to get in someone's way. In someone else's room, or private conversations. There's more _space_ here."

"There's only one other person."

"No." She looked into his eyes. "_Space_."

_Because she sees with inner eyes, not just outer ones. And she's seen me. The lonely man, the bitter man. The empty man, with all the empty spaces in my life, in my heart and soul._ "It would seem it's been waiting for you to fill it." Giles met her gaze unblinkingly.

All the tightening came back, the breath that wouldn't flow properly, and the sudden desire to take away the rest of the empty spaces inside.

* * *

They could barely eat, barely shower and change, keep some semblance of calm, rational behavior.

_To hell with that act_. "Bed?" Giles asked in a scratchy voice when she emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, face scrubbed, wrapped in her robe.

"I- I thought some candles might be nice." Tara's voice was tight, shaking slightly, as she moved toward the mantle to retrieve several half-burnt pillar candles left there.

"Yes. Candles." He took her hand, catching her as she darted past. "We don't need to go up yet. Or at all." His fingers pressed into hers. The shaking wasn't only in her voice. "If it's different here than before, I understand that." He said softly.

"Rupert." One word, and one step into his arms. The shaking stopped, melted out of her.

"Oh." _It's not shaking from fear, or nerves. Not the bad sort. It's shaking because it's hard to control the waiting, and we're still afraid of how much we want what comes next. _"I'll get some matches, then."

* * *

"Hugs?"

"Of course."

The way they'd started, that first clumsy, awkward, ending-up-beautiful time. Just clinging, and then the kisses that made him moan, and this time made her moan too, an instant response. "I'm so glad you're here." Giles whispered. _In this bed with me, in this home with me. Indeed, filling up the emptiness, tearing out the loneliness. _

"Me, too. I like this bed, better." She gasped, arching up much faster than she would have believed herself capable of. "Softer. Smells like you."

_Oh God. Such simple little phrases, all these instinctual, primal impulses she makes me think of suddenly. Her scent, my scent, they do mingle, but she's sweeter. Distinct once you have it._ He shuddered. _Calm. It's about us, not about the physical. _"Ours. We can- we can christen it as such." He stroked her hair back and kissed her cheek, her neck. "Just being here together. That's all."

"I know. It feels good to be home with you." Her eyes closed and head tilted back, letting him kiss her throat as her hands swept up his back, removing the worn cotton tee shirt he wore.

"Your hands always feel so good." Giles whispered, eyes closing as fingers danced gently over scars, sank into the smooth places left and massaged slightly.

His hands were just as wonderful. Stronger than any others she'd encountered, and yet equally gentle. Protective hands, cradling her face, her ribs, hips, as he smoothed up the edge of her "honeymoon" nightie. "Love you."

"Oh, and I love you." He whispered fervently, and suddenly it was not just enough to touch her, lay against her. He had to wrap himself around her, as he knew that he couldn't expect her to fully sheath herself around him. "May I?" Giles began to sit up, still having his hands on her sides.

"What are we doing?" Tara giggled, but sat up.

He was quiet for a moment. Did it sound too silly, childish, to say that he wanted to find a position to hold her tighter? "New position?"

"Oh. I- we- I don't know too many positions." Tara suddenly seemed to stiffen, draw back without removing herself.

"It's not necessarily a sexual position. Just to hold you closer." He let his hands slide off. "Seems silly, we were so very close already, and I- oh." She was on her knees, perching in front of him, hands back out, reaching for his shoulders.

"I didn't need to ask. I can always trust you." Tara slid her chest to his.

"But you can always ask." He placed his arms under his, then down to her hips, and lifted as he felt her breathe in, a sharp half-gasp, and placed her legs over his. She knelt, fumbled, and sat astride him, erection trapped between them, hearts thudding against each other's chests.

No words to explain why he wanted this. So he just acted, a heated, long kiss, and arms that seemed to convey that he was holding on with all his strength. His unexpected lifeline, that he didn't want to lose now that they had returned to reality, away from the other side of the country, away from magical places locked out of time.

This was a full gasp, when he moved his head to let her breathe, just resting on her shoulder now. _Wow._ "You're really good." Tara whispered.

"I want to be. I'm trying to be."_ As good as you deserve, and knowing I can never give you what you've lost. _

"You are." She was holding him just as tight, and her hips rocked subtly, seeking friction, another way to please them both. "Maybe people don't think of you like that. Because you're so smart, and you're reserved."

"And I'm older."

"They're wrong."

He watched her from close range, no, more like felt her. Felt her shifting, her heels digging softly into his rear, her wetness against his hardness and the way she pulsed. Rhythmic, slow- intense. Quietly intense. "Did they think that you were too quiet, too shy?" He murmured against her ear. Her hips increased their pace as her hands dug in. "They were wrong. You're gifted in your love- and your love making."

_But not whole yet_. She swallowed. _Not afraid to try anymore. Well, not afraid to try when it feels right. I'm learning again. He's helping. We're both learning, and helping each other. And it feels- amazing right now. _"Thank you."

He moved with her, a grunt, unused muscles called into play. He put one hand behind him on the mattress for leverage, and one hand dug into the small of her back. She arched. "Oh, I'm sorry-" he began to apologize.

"Move with me. Harder. No- not harder, just more. More with me." She was arching, but in a good way- pushing her center to his, still trying to keep in as much contact as possible.

Another grunt, thighs under hers, and he did, pick up his pace, dig in his hand, keep her body to his. "Love..."

Was it a pet name, part of a declaration, part of a request? All of the above.

"Nnn!" A strangled little sound as she seemed to throw herself forward, legs locking, arms locking, and inviting him to do the same.

Leverage be damned, it doesn't have to be artistic, he decided with a sudden passionate grab. Fingers indented, gripped, harder than he meant to, but not painfully. Desperately. His head bowed to her shoulder, panting on her breast between kisses of whatever he could reach, feeling her work against him, listening to the rapid half-words he was beginning to recognize as her impending orgasm.

"I- want you. So much. God, Rupert!"

"I'm right here. I'm here." He let go of her shoulder and slid a hand between them, a quick slide on his own member, before placing his thumb against her where she needed it most. "Does it help?"

"Yes!" _I want him in me. Yes, I do. I want to give him all of me, like he gives all of himself, to all of us._ "So good. So good to me."

"I love you. You're the wonderful one. Beautiful." T_his miraculous girl. Honestly, the strength she has, and never even feels the need to show it, simply draws on it and shares it freely. I want her. I want to love her and feel her fully loved, fully healed. _"Here?" His fingers curled down, thumb still on her bead, offering her what she was comfortable with.

"What..." She felt quickly down. His hand, not his cock. She moved his wrist, bent two fingers down and felt him twist index over middle finger, making himself narrower for her.

"Just one?"

"Like you have them." She leaned back a little and winced ever so slightly as he penetrated, but it didn't hurt. Just full. Her hand stroked him as he moved gently inside, quick and smooth, skillful at pleasing without setting off the painful mental alarms he knew were there.

"Unh... Unhhh. Rupert." She pistoned, looking at him with an edge of frustration in her eyes.

"Lay back, I'll go with you." He eased her down, fingers still working inside, slowly positioning so that he lay half across her, propped up over her. Watching her peak.

She couldn't hear over her own breathing, blood pounding in her ears. And it was dark, candle light so much dimmer than the firelight she'd gotten accustomed to, but she didn't feel the same need to be able see him. Though she watched him now. Watching him watching her- his mouth was forming words, and his free hand suddenly laced with hers as she bore down, pouring out her climax.

Fingers free, wrapping her to him as she descended. The signal it was still safe, still well between them. "It gets better. Each time." Tara was talking half to herself.

"We're learning each other." He kissed each eyelid.

"Mhm." Guilt prickled, at what she wanted to say. And was quickly dismissed. Honesty didn't didn't diminish love. "You're the best I've had- even though we- we haven't. All the way. Or much."

His eyebrows arched, shoulders drew back slightly. "I- thank you. I know I don't compare to others, though." _My ego could use the stroking, and she knows it. But she wouldn't flatter. _He relaxed.

"No, you don't. Willow was the best- for me. Because of who she was, and what we had." Tara smiled at him, and he nodded, understanding in his eyes. "But I was her first- with a woman. A-and there'd only been Oz before me."

"I thought that would be the case." He murmured.

"You have more experience."

"Precious little lately." He laughed wryly.

"I saw." She knew most of the sexual experiences weren't good memories, and the ones that were, were tinged with loss and the feeling of failure. "But you give everything you can to me, all the skills and all- all of you. A-and it shows. It's so good." She blushed suddenly. "Not that the others were bad. You're just- better at some things."

"I think you bring it out in me. You're- you're different than the others I've been with." _For one thing, we haven't done a fraction of what I did with others, and I don't imagine we will. Not even the most basic act, and yet- _"It's better with you. It means something true. With you- well, you read auras. You won't laugh." He was still getting used to such heart on his sleeve speaking, without preservation or reservation. What could he hide from her? "With you it's not just the physical, or even the emotional-"

"It's kind of spiritual, isn't it?"

"Yes. It feels like that, to me."

"Me, too." They shared a contented, knowing smile. "M-maybe that's why it's so good." Tara whispered, tongue moistening lips that seemed to dry out suddenly with no warning. Parts of her dry- while other parts kept turning wetter and wetter.

"It must be."

Her hand trailed down, and stroked around him, then grasped him. He groaned softly, shifted, giving himself to her.

"Am I doing this part right?" She suddenly asked.

"Absolutely."

"I don't have as much practice with - with this stuff."

"What we do for each other- seems to be plenty." His sentence was broken by a rumble in his throat, stifling a curse of urgency. Three nights in a row of pleasure after months and months of neglect, years of solitude, and now he was insatiable. Perhaps not the body, the heart. So hungry after nearly starving to the point of no return.

She knew it. She knew it and she wanted to feed him, heart, soul, body. That want still scared her, but the fear was lessening every moment. She babbled- no confided. "Willow was - can I talk about her? For a minute?"

"Of course. We can stop." Giles tried to still her wrist.

"No. No, we're not done, and I don't think she'd mind- if you don't." She deftly bent away from his fingers, pumping him, then leaning to kiss him softly.

"I never mind hearing about her." Giles gave a little half-smile, sadness in his eyes as he remembered her, smiling because he truly did love recalling her, hearing about her from someone else who'd loved her so well.

"Willow was amazing. She had powers like you can't imagine. And- and she shared them with me. She was the only one I've ever been with who was the s-same as me. Wicca."

"Magical."

"That made it better. I just felt like I should tell you. So you'd know I wasn't putting her down."

"I'd never think that!" Giles cried.

"I know."

_So why did she tell me? Just now?_ "That made it better for you?"

"I..." She groped for words, trying to describe something indescribable. "It was so special."

"Something you can't replicate. I know." He reminded her. Her hand stilled on its own now, moved to his stomach, laying there, a gesture of intimacy, not sensuality.

"Nothing about her can be copied." Tara whispered firmly.

Silence. Not a rift, something thoughtful and waiting. "I'm not magical. It's not _in _me. I've messed about with the darkest offerings, and now what I do is simple, related to protection, fighting evil, finding answers." He paused, sure she'd say something, but all she did was nod. "But- I can relate, in a way. Magic was my 'drug of choice'. It overcame me. But now that I've mastered it, not let it master me- it's still potent."

"Yes. Powerful." Tara echoed him. "She was powerful."

"So are you. No one, least of all Willow, doubted your powers, simply because they weren't as dramatically gained, or dramatically displayed." His arm crossed over hers, stroking her skin in a comforting, reassuring way.

"I don't know if that's true about everyone. B-but I know it's true about you. You understand more than they do. Whether or not it's your ability by birth, or learned- you get it. You have those powers. Like me. I've watched you do some of the spells. You're calm and you control it. B-but you're still powerful. It comes when you call, and it does what you ask..." Her voice was wistful.

"You miss practicing with another."

"Yes." Why lie? It was something only she and Willow had done. Of course she missed it. One more empty space.

"Would you ever like to- that is, there are things I do need practice on. I could be more useful if I learned a bit more..." He looked at her- saw her eyes suddenly fill with an eager light- then dim. "Even friends have shared hobbies. It doesn't need to be the way it was with you and Willow, and I know that even if I tried, it couldn't be the same."

"I'd love to. I really- I really didn't know I missed it until I was thinking- because when I'm with you and I'm s-safe I guess I think." Tara's words suddenly cascaded out, turning on her side, eyes burrowing into his, and unknowingly deeper into his heart as she poured out her own. "Even the 'wicca' club on campus was full of magical wannabes, and Willow was the real thing. The only other real one I'd seen- besides my mother. M-maybe that's why it was so amazing. It was like finding home... no, it was like finding the place that was supposed to be home, but you kept missing it, kept getting lost, and then- finally found it." Her voice tightened, choked with sudden tears that stayed down instead of flowing out. "She was the only one I ever had that with. Where it was romantic and magical, and I know it can't be the same, but yes, I want that with you, i-if you- oh."

_Romantic. Same with you. Felt safe. Too safe?_

Giles nodded his head, understanding the sudden pained looked in her eyes, the way the words that had been tumbling out suddenly halted. "_Loving_ and magical can be just as meaningful, I'm sure. Well, meaningful in a different manner. I would be honored to practice with you, something simple, something complex. It would be my- my privilege."

_ He saves me from myself- from the parts that hurt, that frighten. I love that. I love him. "_Thank you, Rupert. I would really like that." Tara whispered, hand resting on his cheek.

_I'd like anything with her. I can see that now. She is simply enjoyable to be around, and so different from the others. Older and younger all at once._ "You teach me so much..." His hand paralleled hers, arms crossing, hands on cupped cheeks, eyes full of different types of intensity .

She'd learned so much from him. About healing, about pleasure, about loving someone in a new way. Opening up again for him, and not closing off for her. Opening to him- as he let her in.

Suddenly the metaphors in her tired, emotional brain seemed to need a physical outlet. _Make love. Need to. Hold him, hold on to me. _

"Still." She whispered suddenly, a soft command. And he obeyed, unmoving, lying across from her as he had been. Her hand moved to from cheek to temple, and his eyes closed, a weary, finally content expression on his face. Her thumb stroked his brow as she stared.

_She's reading me. Not just glancing at my aura as she passes by, that innate ability she has. She's _reading_ me. _He breathed out. Felt her touching him- inside. Like when she'd been exposed to his memories and his emotions, only this wasn't shameful. This was something beautiful.

"Beautiful." A soft gray aura, with spots so bright they were white, streaks of jet black running through. A storm inside a man of light, a man of solid rock- and soft as down, all blended, half hidden. His chest heaved once, and his hand flexed on her elbow, eyes still closed. Patient man. Longing man. Waiting man. Her own chest heaved, sides heaving too, a stab of want, a stab of pain where she was softest- heart and tight pink center. Waiting woman. Longing woman. Not entirely patient, but not able to complete the act her body might be waiting for.

_Able to complete each other as best we can with the fragments we have left. Longing to be whole. Patiently fighting along, never knowing if we would be whole. Waiting. J_ust waiting, for what, they didn't know, but here was something beautiful they had found.

His eyelids parted as her hand moved from temple to shoulder and pulled. _What did you see?_ He wanted to ask, but was afraid to. _Can you see a murderer? I killed Ben. I killed the body Glory was in, but I would have killed anyway, because I knew Willow was dead and the beast causing her death must die, innocent or not. _

_ Can you see lust, lust I swear I don__'t mean to feel, but it's oddly pure? I crave you, but I love you more, I would never desire you, or act on a desire, unless it was mutual. _

_ Is it dark? Is it fragmented? _

_ Like I am?_

_ Or like I was becoming, when we tried to save the family, and I think we may have saved much more. _

She pulled again, arm wrapping round his neck, pulling him on top of her, breathing shakily into his shoulder and then at his throat, smooth hips bucking up, spine a sudden arch that had dual signals. _Hold me tight, hold me close._ Something needy and loving. And the more surprising one- _I'm ready. I want you. _Something still needy and loving, and unmistakably sexual.

He thrust his hips down, responding to her rise, and curled his arm under her back, pressing her in close, chest to chest, cheek to cheek._ I need you too. I love you too. I'm ready and wanting, more than you can guess. _

_ I should say something. Only I can__'t seem to speak. _

It was the struggle for words that did it, made him grab her hand and push it over his heart, clamp it down, squeeze her hand so hard she winced. "Sorry." He was driven to gasp. "I... I wish that you could see..."

"I think I can." Her voice was quivering. All of her was quivering as she nodded, trying to swallow. "Sh-show me?"

* * *

It was more intense, more sexual. They had scratched the cautious surface of each other's bodies, and they began to feel a certain level of ease.

Tara's eyes rolled back and seemed to stay there. This was different. This was a good, _good_ different. Her hand wrapped around him as he slid from clit to bottom and back up, hard and fast, rutting against her, head bowed, kissing her upturned face and neck, kissing everything he could reach. She pumped in a counter stroke, and she explored more, opening her palm, reaching a little lower, tugging a bit harder at the top, experimenting with the way he liked to be touched, not just the fact that he wanted touch, and she wanted to provide the comfort. Now she wanted him to feel more than just love and softness. Wanted him to have it how he liked it best. Wanted to make him cry out, feel him go rigid, and then relax, watch all the pain and lines wash off a tired warrior's face.

Her hips widened, knees drawing back, deliberately rubbing him in her wetness, pulling him harder and closer.

"Oh Lord... Tara..."

"That's right." Not a question, but a declaration, for both of them. It's right, right now. "More?"

"I don't need more. Don't want more." He shook his head, then let it roll back, feeling the heavenly touch, the sweet places he was thrusting hard against, letting himself go.

"Rupert..."

"Never have to do what hurts you. Love you." He repeated, suddenly blinking down on her, realizing this much was more than enough, really, truly was. "Close." He smiled, then grit his teeth, eyes closing again.

"You don't hurt me." She tugged at his arm, for the first time taking control of his hand, pushing his fingers in, two, and squeezed down on him, milking him, pushing herself closer to another climax.

Giles lost his balance, one hand being occupied, her hands busy. "Maybe we..." a turn, breathless nods, and she was astride his waist, riding his fingers. Really truly riding them while she massaged him. "May I try something?"

"Yes." She didn't ask what, she didn't need to. The gratified look he wore made her blush for a second, then beam down at him, acknowledging their progress.

"Lean back just a bit- let me know if that's comfortable." She'd been riding, and now he thrust, staying mostly in, pulling out just enough to mimic the motions of sex, and she almost immediately started to reciprocate, sinking down on him, moving her perching position as her knees widened, moving farther down, still pumping him in her hand.

Pulling him back to flirt with her wetness, hands, cock, and pussy all bumping together in something purely physical for the first time.

Giles pulled himself out of this carnal haze after several minutes, the sounds of their mutual groaning suddenly sharp in his ears, realizing his fingers were pushing harder and faster than he'd ever tried with her, and her hips were bucking, bouncing, just on his hand and not his shaft. But he'd watched this performance before with others, this glorious expression of raw pleasure- and all at once aware that he wasn't paying his normal careful attention, the loving caution he made sure to show in anything he did with her. He blinked up at her. Her eyes were closed, head back, then rolling forward, moaning the entire time. _She's lost, too. She trusts me to make it good for her, painless for her. She's enjoying it, really. _He studied her face, trying to focus even though he wanted to join her, back in that mindless bliss.

_Damn. I can't do that._ "Bloody... Wait, Tara. Tara, love, listen." He stopped his motion, and she stopped hers, both making short frustrated sounds. "I'm not carried away, but this is different for me. I don't want to do something that- that hurts us later."

"What are you talking about?" Her voice wasn't angry, or even offended, just confused. _Because he doesn't hurt me, and he's my friend. Someone who loves me and protects me, who I love and protect, so this must matter, must mean something. _

"It _is_ out of love, but it's more." He licked his lips, not dry this time, too wet, salivating over her and over the way she had captured him and his imagination this time, as they rushed towards an explosive peak. "I didn't mean to. I can control myself."

"I'm still lost." Tara replied.

"This is very- hm- it's is emotional and spiritual, all those things we said, but it's becoming something ..." He fought for the right words. Saying sexual didn't feel right, as they had been acting out their needs in a sexual way prior to this moment. "It's hard not to want you in a _physical_ way." _Please understand. All that wisdom and compassion._ "I didn't want to keep going unless I told you."

"Physical? You mean making love?

"Yes, but-hrm. A little more focused on the physicality than the emotional aspect just then. N-not that the emotional wasn't there, oh- damn." He stammered himself into a frustrated pause.

"Making love-slash-sex? Like sex for pleasure?" Tara leaned forward, interrupting their connection, separating herself from his fingers, letting go of his erection even as it gave a hot throb in her hand.

"It's more than that, but yes. On top of everything else. It wasn't before." _I don't know what changed exactly._ He looked down, the lush breasts inches above his own chest, rather than meet her eyes. _I told her I need the intimacy, something loving. I assured her I had chosen selfish, baser actions because they were the only option, and only a few days later, I'm - I'm some horny middle aged man._ His own rebuke make him wince.

"Rupert, that's okay." Tara's voice was like balm to the stings he had inflicted on himself. His eyes darted up, hopefully looking into hers. Her heart gave a little twist as something inside melted. "You really are a wonderful, caring man. The- the best man I know." She whispered, stroking his face as she lay fully on top of him.

"I'm a selfish person sometimes."_ Oh God, she's making it worse._ His cock twitched against her as she lay, and she swiveled._ Doesn't help._

"Selfish people take. They don't wait, don't ask." She let out a shaky breath, ignoring a sudden stab inside, memories of another man, taking, abusing. "It changed."

His own thoughts, from her lips. That happened rather often. "I didn't mean for it to, and I'm sure it's only the-"

She cut him off, shaking her head. "It's not a bad change, is it? I m-mean, I don't think it is." Her fair skin turned a darker rose as she looked at him. "It's changing for me, too. I have the same kind of feelings y-you have."

"You do? You feel like that?"

"Yes." _For the first time in so long- the good feelings are back, and tonight, I was enjoying it, just to enjoy it. _

"With me?" His voice was openly doubtful.

"Yes, you!" She laughed at his incredulity. "Who else?"

"I- I don't know. I just- well, I can't, I _couldn't _imagine I could give you what you give me." He stammered, completely undone for a moment.

"We're not giving each other less. It's more. I c-can imagine you giving me that." Her eyes slid away, heat rising over her neck to her cheeks. "I can imagine you giving me everything." _Everything that's left. _

"I would, Darling, if there was anything I could provide."

"That's why it's okay. I- I think if the people we lost were able to make wishes for us, they'd say they wanted us to be safe and be loved, find someone who understood. And if w-we found that person, and we were able to m-make love, they'd want it to feel amazing."

"I know we're not taking away from anyone's memory." He smoothed her hair back, eyes finding eyes again, "I only didn't want to take from _you_. Eh-hm. I don't want ever seem selfish. You're so giving."

"You never have. I think... I think I want us to give those feelings. A-as long as it's not _only_ about getting those feelings." She frowned. "That'd be using each other. You don't do that. I don't either."

He nodded. "I would never hurt. Never take, never force, never use. But I admit that what you do gives me something I selfishly, purely my own enjoyment."

This time her smile was a shy smirk, telling him a secret. "Wrong. Not just your own. I was going to- so hard."

"Really?" Delight, and a smirk of his own, quickly wiped away. "I'd love for you to just lose yourself in the physical- with the understanding all the emotional is waiting for you. After you- hm- I believe you put it as 'you know'."

Tara giggled. "We're going to have a really hard time with the sex life stuff if we don't get better with the hard to say words."

"Centuries of repression, I'm afraid."'

"Terminally shy. Stuttering doesn't help."

"Stammering is much the same."

"Repressed, huh? Didn't they call you 'Ripper'?"

"Oh Lord." _She knows that bit of my life. Hard to claim shyness when you rough-shagged your way through a dozen women in the name of a good time and demon worship too. _He sighed, heard her laughing at him, gently, not mocking.

"I- I like you. I love you, too. I think it's better we have a good time together." Tara murmured. "What's the alternative?"

"Careful acting and politely shared living quarters."

"I think we've had that."

_And it was bloody awful, miserable, and lonely. Bravery and honesty needed. All right. Dunkirk spirit. _ "I want to love you. Make love to you. I want to make it amazing for you, and I want you to know I'm here for so much more than the carnal gratification." Her mouth opened, but he continued, pouring out words before he could lose his nerve, "I'm here for more than the sake of keeping our family on the same continent, for more than paperwork and immigration loopholes. I'm- I'm here for _you._ Hrm. Yes. I may not have started out thinking that way, but- I didn't know you then like I know you now." He ground to a halt. "In future, perhaps you could stop me before ramble myself into embarrassing places?"

"Why would you be embarrassed?" Tara looked at him with shining eyes, lashes slightly wet. "Th-that was awesome. I - I'm going to sound lame if I just say 'me, too', but th-that's all I need to say. I'm here for the same reasons- only now I'm h-here because of you the most." Her turn to struggle for words, and decide one more scab could be exposed to his understanding eyes. "Willow was my best friend. I love everyone, the gang is great. Dawnie is like the little sister I never had, Anya- I really like Anya even if she kinda scares me. B-but I didn't have a best friend anymore. You know? Best friend is the one who you don't hide anything from and you're really close to, close in ways no one else gets?"

"I don't have that at all. I haven't since I- well, you've heard of Ethan Rayne. I lost my 'best friend' years ago, as good as dead to me after what he's done." Thunderclouds crossed his face, and it took her hand on his shoulder to bring him back to himself, out of the storm of anger and bitterness at the loss, one more piece of his life robbed by demons, either by death or by choice. "But I understand perfectly. A confidant. An equal. I have friends, family, loved ones. I'm afraid they all see me as a father, a mentor. It's very hard to show the weaknesses to them that you've already seen. But then you -" He squinted at her, "never saw me as a father, did you?"

"No. Because you are _nothing _like my father was to me." Her voice was suddenly hard, and Giles remembered that the softness in her hid a steel strength. She let the gentleness come back into her tone. "I feel like you're that missing part. The best friend. Not in the same way. But-"

"The _true _friend. The closest, the closeness that we've been missing."

Hadn't she just thought that this day, this morning? That the man she had married out of love and loyalty was becoming a_ true _friend to her? She nodded soundlessly.

"We fit quite well together." He marveled.

"We really do. And we could f-feel so good together. If we both want it."

"I believe we do that as well. Or rather, we _would_ if we stopped interrupting the proceedings." He laughed at their hesitations, at all the stops and starts.

"But that's how it is when you're with your friend. And the person you love. You can stop..." She slowly rose back up, hands dragging down his chest, pressing hard, making him close his eyes and sigh, "and start again."

"Not lose any ground." His stiffness sprang up as soon as her weight was off of him.

Tara swallowed. _Nope. Didn't lose anything, not an inch. And there's a lot of inches. _

"Maybe it's different for women." He stroked his hand from cheek to breast, letting it pause there, squeezing gently before going back to her hip, resting without demanding.

"Just thinking." She shook her head. "Still right here with you."

* * *

He realized they'd spent hours together, tangling, talking, stopping, starting. Long hours of love making, that was what he'd wanted to find one day, if he should ever find a lover, find himself in a relationship again.

_The most unorthodox of relationships, of lovers, but_\- he stared up at her, open mouthed, breathing hard, before his jaw locked and he stopped thinking- _she's still amazing. _

Tara nodded down at him, same ragged panting, same glazing, barely able to focus eyes.

"Ready?" It came out harshly, the effort of holding himself back for her.

"Cum for me?" High pitched, not harsh, breathless and whispery, before she lost her words and just seemed to sing, long, siren notes as she rocked herself forward and came on him in a series of shuddering twitches.

"All for you." He growled, grunted, three loud cries, shooting hard and hot against her belly and breasts, down between her thighs, hips still spasming.

"Oh wow. W-wow." Her voice was trembly, matching her body, as her cheek crashed on his chest. She giggled at him when he tried to speak and all that came out was a wheeze.

"My... love." Giles finally managed, a laugh in his voice.

"I think we should do that again sometime." Tara rolled off of him. He nodded once, firmly.

"But not- now." Giles blinked sweat from his eyes and attempted to sit up. Failed. "Good Lord. I'm getting old."

"Nu-uh." Tara grinned. Then her eyes widened. "Giles!"

"What? What's the matter?" He forced himself up, elbows doing what his spine wouldn't.

"Nothing, nothing, just-" she reached across and grabbed the small digital clock near the bed. "I don't think you're getting old. I think it's the fact that we - um- we did things- for a very long time." She blushed.

He preened. For a minute. "It's only three hours until we should be getting up!"

"Yeah, but I bet we sleep like logs."

_Sleeping beside her. _"I know I will." He sat up as she was placing the clock back, ending up half sitting with her, just the right height for what he wanted to do.

He kissed her once, long and sweet. "Goodnight, Tara."

"Goodnight, Rupert." She moved into his arm as he lied back down. "Are you too hot to cuddle up?"

He detested the California heat which never seemed to abate, and stifled him well into winter. Yet he smiled and assured, "No. Never with you."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Union**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ A story about love, but maybe not about romance. A sweet little piece about two gentle people who love each other without being in love, trying to overcome regrets, fear, and loneliness in order to keep what's left of their lives together. Completely AU, after season five._

_Author's Note: It's a piece about Tara and Giles. I never imagined I would write such a piece, but the idea would not leave alone until it was written. If you find that wrong, bad, or in someway worth getting upset over, please stop reading. I don't write to make people sad, I write because I love it and I like to share what's in my head with people who are looking to enjoy a flight of fancy. _

_Author's Second Note: Sexual content. And wordy. Soooo wordy. Also awkward. I warned you. Skim if you gotta. _

_Dedicated to Ginar369, AGriffinWriter, Sirius120, ValidescopeWest, Writerdragonfly, __sbyamibakura__, TieDyeJackson, kitakana, and Omslagspapper, my cheering section. _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** VI**

_Rejoining Society_

"I put the kettle on!"

"Did I see English muffins in the fridge?"

"I'll put one in for you. Do you want jam?"

"Just butter. Oh! My parking permit for this semester- I think it's still at Buffy's."

"I'll drop you, if you like."

"Are you going in to the store?"

"I am, and I can pick you up if you tell me a time."

Conversation rang from the top of the stairs to down the hall, from bath to kitchen, bedroom to hall.

_The flat feels like a home. Not in the typical relieved sense of just having a place to escape from the madness. Different somehow._

"Umm- three? Is three too early for you to leave?"

"Not at all."

"Maybe we can pick Dawnie up and take her back to the store with us?"

"That's fine, but you'd better get hold of Buffy to make sure. Or I can. Oh, I suppose we could call the house. Spike's ususally there during the day."

"That's so hard to get used to." Tara commiserated.

"Everything feels a bit different." Giles smiled and watched his wife come racing down the stairs, long hair floating behind her, like the purple patchwork skirt and white gauzy blouse she wore. _Some ethereal presence sent to grace this house. _

"Don't forget to pack some lunch- unless you need to shop- I mean, we need to shop. Do you have peanut butter?" She skidded to a stop in front of him, semi-self-consciously patting down her hair as she took him in. Jeans. Earring. Button down shirt and no tie. "You l-look nice."

"I'm trying to look like a man who's successfully completed his midlife crisis. Red convertible, beautiful young wife, and jeans that- hrm- might just be a bit too tight."

"Just snug, but it works. You have a really great butt." Tara pecked his cheek and scrambled into the kitchen to see what she could make a sandwich out of.

He blinked after her, then down at himself. "Do I?"

Tara swallowed a giggle as she watched him trying to crane his neck to check out his rear. "Trust me. You do."

He went whistling off to the bathroom to put a somewhat youthful tilt to his hair.

* * *

"I'm glad you're back! I hope you had a wonderful honeymoon!" Anya greeted Giles. Loudly. In full cry actually, startling the few early shoppers who were at the shop before nine thirty. "Honeymoon! As in wedded bliss."

"They heard. I imagine the entire street heard." Giles hissed. _Can she be anymore obvious? No. That's her. _Then grinned. "I'm very happy to be back. To see you." He patted her shoulder as he entered the space behind the counter.

"I'm happy to see you, too. I left you a stack of invoices you need to sign, you need to look at the deposit slips and the account statement from the bank, and then I made you a list of all the stuff you need to reorder. Except for the powdered fang. Spike's getting us whole ones and Xander's going to use the power sander at work. I think we'll save about fifty percent off the overhead cost that way."

Giles blinked, and tried not to groan. "Back to the grind already, I see."

"You had four days off, Mister!" Anya waved off his mildly martyred air and pointed to the desk in the back.

* * *

Around lunch it seemed that Anya's rabid salesmanship waned, and she came in to check on her partner/still-sort-of-the-boss. "I thought you might need me to go pick up lunch... but you're eating." Anya frowned. "You're eating out of a plastic grocery bag."

"I didn't have any of those little brown paper sacks." Giles swallowed a mouthful peanut butter and jam on bread. "Tara put it in whatever was handy." He pulled out an apple as well.

"Tara packed your lunch?"

"Why does that surprise you? She's been cooking and cleaning for all of us." His normally stoic voice had an immediate defensive edge.

Anya stared for almost a full minute, head cocked, studying the man at the desk, before assessing the situation. "You two are into this. You're not acting."

"What? Of course I'm not acting. Tara does care for us, all of us, in very practical ways. She's very giving. As I know well, as our situation proves." He finished in an undertone.

"No. Not what I meant." The head cocked to the other side.

Giles cursed the blunt perceptiveness of his junior partner. "Anya, I have a lot to do, and I'm leaving to pick Tara up in a few hours, so I'd better get on. I have some phone calls to make."

"Okay." Anya nodded slowly.

_She's not done_. Giles braced himself.

"Are you happy? Is she happy?" Anya asked without preamble.

That was not what he'd expected. "Yes. I think we are."

Another nod, and this time she left the room.

_Are we so transparent? Or is it simply that Anya has an uncanny ability to look at humans like she was studying lab specimens?_

* * *

"Did you talk to Spike?"

"I did. Eventually. Apparently he was vacuuming and couldn't 'hear the soddin' phone over the Hoover'. He's fine with us picking up Dawn, provided we're all over by seven sharp." Giles shook his head ruefully. "There's a lot of frustrated housekeeper in Spike that I never realized."

"It's not in him, it's in Buffy, trying to make things look good. Trying to keep things like Joyce would have wanted. Spike just does whatever she needs." Tara shared her own perceptive perspective on the situation.

"I imagine you're right. Very astute." Giles praised. Then cleared his throat. "Anya thought the fact that you packed my lunch was somehow significant."

"What? Why? I packed Dawn's lunch all the time, if I was over the night before. I packed lunch for everyone, if Buffy didn't beat me to it." Tara shrugged.

"Perhaps it's because I'm usually the one no one ever packs lunch for. I am 'the adult'." Giles gave her a wry grin. "Also, I'm typically not there as late as some of you- leaving for my own place."

"Oh. Yeah, maybe. Wh-what did she say?"

"She said we're not acting. She asked if we were both happy. I told her we were. Happy that is, and I told her no, we weren't acting."

Tara nodded. _Not acting. What would it look like if we were acting? No packed lunch? _

"Should I have told her something - different?"

"No! No... I'm just wondering how she knew. Not that I don't want her to know. It's like- Anya sees things 'normal people' miss, doesn't she?"

"I think the thousand years as a demon does that."

"Hm. I wonder what the others will say?"

* * *

Dawn squealed and hugged them both, one at a time, leaping at Giles, bouncing up and down at Tara. "I didn't know you were picking me up! This is so awesome, I missed you so much! Are we going to the store?"

"For a few hours, then to your house." Giles smiled at her. "Oh, Tara, we need to swing by the flat. Pick up the gifts we got for everyone." He drove off with Dawn squealing again.

* * *

At the store, everyone was put to work, no time to really talk. Once they arrived at the Summers' house, it was a mad whirl of talking, hugging, exchanging gifts and trying not to invoke Buffy's wrath as she struggled with an elaborate meal.

"I'm going to go pack." Tara called into the melee.

"I'm going to help." Dawn bolted after her.

"Hey! You need to set the table first." Buffy hollered after the escaping teen.

"I'll do that." Giles volunteered quickly.

"It's Dawn's job."

"Tara missed her, and Dawn missed Tara." Giles raised his eyebrows pointedly, daring her to argue. Buffy subsided and passed him a handful of forks. "Thank you."

"I'm only giving in because now I can talk to you without screaming over her." Buffy winked.

* * *

Dawn was uncharacteristically quiet as she helped Tara empty the closet, laying clothes on hangers across her pillow, carefully wrapping Tara's crystals and bottles of herbs and other magical supplies before putting them in a box.

"How- how was it?" Dawn finally asked softly.

"The trip? Oh, it was fun!" Tara forced her voice to sound light and bubbly, carefully keeping her mind from dwelling on the dark, painful moments. "Boston is really cool. I'd never been there, and I think I want to go back some time. The place we stayed was neat too, not like a chain hotel, it was really built at the end of the Colonial era, and there was a witchcraft museum."

"Cool." Dawn's voice was flat.

"Dawnie." Tara could give an entire maternal lecture in a word.

"I was worried about you. And Giles. I felt kind of stupid when I got so excited at first - then realized this was going to be so hard for you. I know you're adults and I'm a 'dumb teenager', but I get that you're doing this for all of us. You two - always help people." Dawn twisted her hands nervously.

"Honey, first, no one thinks you're dumb, even if you're a teenager. Second, it was our choice. You don't have to worry about us."

"But- I do. Everyone does." Dawn protested. She stopped packing and sat on the floor in front of the bed, staring up at Tara as she asked in a soft voice, "Are you sad?"

Tara slid from the edge so she could be level with the worried looking girl. "No. I'm not." She paused. She and Dawnie were honest with each other, which is why they had a good relationship, a relationship that Buffy envied. Buffy tried to protect the younger girl, and so she should, but it kept coming out as getting caught in "lies" or Dawn feeling like people were treating her like a baby, too little to handle ugly truths, yet expecting her to live through them. "I _was _sad." Tara confessed.

"I thought you were." Dawn whispered.

"I've been sad for months. We all have. I think some part of me is always going to be sad, because I miss Willow. She should be here."

"It isn't fair." Dawn said angrily.

"No, it isn't. But you can't bring her back."

Dawn looked suddenly guilty. She'd tried something along those lines, with her mother. Spike helped, but he was doing it because he loved her and Buffy, not because it was a good idea. "You- you're sure?"

"There are ways to bring people back. They look like they did, they may even act like they did, but most of the time- they're not the person you lost. I don't want to risk living with a copy. Giles is nothing like Willow." Tara explained gently. Dawn snorted as she nodded. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't give me a lot of the s-same feelings."

Now the snort was a startled gasp. "Feelings? Like-_ feelings _for him feelings?"

Tara avoided answering without seeming to do so, inside alarms were going off. No need to hide, no need to lie, and yet she wasn't ready to share that things were now unexpectedly so much more than mere friendship. "I mean Giles makes me feel loved and safe, and even happy. A-and I make him feel that way too. It's been a long, hard life for him. Mine hasn't been too hot lately either." She smiled sadly. "It's good to have a friend you can really share that with, that he understands me. He doesn't need me to love Willow less to have a relationship with him."

"So you're not sad now? Like, not _as _sad?"

"That's right."

Dawn seemed relieved. "How about the honeymoon? Was it weird?" She made a face.

"The first day was kind of strange." Tara admitted. "The whole thing has been strange, but you know us. We do whatever works, even if it looks crazy."

"I heard Buffy and Spike talking, and they were all like- 'They're mature adults, it's Boston, it's boring and safe'. I get that- but even adults can have stuff be awkward. Buffy and Spike sometimes- it's awkward city here."

Tara laughed. "You're a smarty pants, you know that?"

"Seriously am." Dawn tossed her hair.

Tara stood up. "I thought it was going to be harder. Weird, like you said, but only when we were alone together. When you're doing something to distract yourself, everything seems easier. Being alone is harder, and I don't mean alone with him."_ Not just that, anyway. _"It's just hard when you're grieving. But," she smiled suddenly, pulling Dawnie up, "I don't feel that way with Giles. When we're alone, it's nice. We do have a lot in common. We like a lot of the same things. He's easy to talk to. He's easy to listen to. He's really...understanding."

"Aww. That's so nice. And I'm majorly glad." Dawn smiled, then bit her lip. "Do you think he's happy, too? I mean, obviously, with you he would be, but the whole deal, with Travers being a buttfaced poop brain trying to ruin people's lives."

"That makes him angry. That makes us all angry. But I do think he's happy." She hesitated. Private things were just that, private. Still, she could tell her almost little sister this much, "He's been working really hard, for a really long time, and he's- he's been alone." She avoided saying lonely.

"He had all of us!" Dawn pouted, somehow feeling this was a slight against her and her friends.

"And all of us have someone. Family. Partners. _Had _someone." Tara's voice struggled to stay steady. "Even if we're a family, he had more time without someone else in his life, a-and this is good for both of us. To have someone."

"You have me." Dawn hugged her suddenly, lunging around her waist. "Okay? Him, too!"

Tara laughed. "We love you. We will always have our Dawnie. Want to hang the print we brought you?"

"Yeah!"

"Dinnnnnner! Hurry the bloody hell up before it gets cold!"

"Maybe after dinner." Dawn moved quickly past her friend. "When Buffy cooks, Spike's like the enforcer. I hope you're hungry. You're going to have to have seconds. Maybe thirds."

* * *

Giles washed dishes with Buffy after dessert- the remains of a rather lopsided top tier of their wedding cake- was finished. She brought up the subject of patrolling together. He felt oddly reluctant, though he had no idea why- at first. He loved watching his Slayer at work, and that was a chance he got less and less as Spike, a far more formidable partner, joined her ranks.

"Just a quick sweep." He agreed. "It's been a very busy day."

"Forty five minutes, tops. Tara has to finish packing and load up the car anyway, and Spike and Xander can help with the heavy stuff. If there is any heavy stuff." Buffy took his arm. "I'm really glad you're back." She smiled tremulously, then forced it to turn playful, giving a wink as she teased, "You've been slacking on Watcher duty." The impish look almost immediately vanished, and she looked furious at herself. "I mean- no. You haven't. I know what you were doing was_ so_ about being here, being a Watcher, being with all of us. I just- I missed you."

Giles dried the last dish. "I missed all of you. I'll be happy to come along. Let me just tell Tara."

"Sure." Buffy frowned for a moment, but it turned into a smile. It was odd to hear him say that, to pick one specific person- other than her, to tell his plans. But it was a pattern. Tara and Willow. Xander and Anya. She and Dawn. She and Spike. She swallowed and pushed that thought away. _You tell the people who really, really need you to come back. You tell everyone, but you tell that special person first. _

The frown came back._ Huh._

* * *

"I'm going to go do a quick sweep with Buffy. Are you nearly done?" Giles and Tara met as she carried a large box from the bedroom to the front door. He caught it and took it from her easily, looking at her over the edge.

"About five more boxes upstairs, but there's about ten on the porch. N-not big things." Tara hastily explained.

"We'll make room in the car. Do you need me to help carry things?"

"We've got it covered." Spike came down behind them, carrying three of the boxes easily. "Go kill somethin' with Slayer. She likes her hunting partners British these days."

"Hey!" Xander shouted and kicked at the vampire as he came down beside him. One box fell from the stack and Tara made a worried noise.

"Are you _quite_ sure I can't carry something?" Giles addressed Tara only, glaring pointedly at the arguing men on the stairs.

"Go help kill things. Be careful." Tara darted a kiss on his cheek and he smiled at her. A private smile, like the one just before they'd kissed at their ceremony. Only now the hidden meanings had so much more depth.

"You too. Keep the house standing." He chuckled.

* * *

Spike put the last box in the car under Tara's watchful gaze, then they walked back to the house. Spike paused on the porch, flipping a cigarette from his pocket and a silver lighter following it before she could even blink, like watching a stage magician with ten times the slight of hand abilities.

"Right then. How was it?" Spike asked, holding the flame to the end.

"Fine." Tara answered shortly, moving past him, toward the door.

"Is it me that has you rushin' off, or the smoke?" Spike asked, not looking at her.

"Smoke." Tara paused. "D-did you want something?"

"Yeah. Wanted to talk to you a minute. Just wanted to make sure you're good to go. You and the old boy." He snapped the lighter shut with a metallic click and put the unlit cigarette behind his ear.

"Oh, yeah, everything really is fine. The apartment will feel more like 'ours' once some of my things are in it, but it's been nice so far."

"Dunno how you're doin' it." Spike muttered quietly.

"What?"

"After Red." He shrugged. "If I - if it'd been Buffy, and then I had to soldier on- don't know how I could."

Tara bit her lip. She wanted to comment that what Spike and Buffy had wasn't like what she and Willow had. She wanted to tell him it wasn't like she was moving away from Willow's love, or taking her love from Willow by being with Giles in this way. "Look, Spike-"

And he did, look right at her, blue eyes way too bright and too intense for someone who wasn't hurting, wasn't feeling pain and loss.

"What, Pet?"

"I- I'm glad it wasn't Buffy." Tara finally whispered. "I know you fell, too. I'm glad you're better."_ I'm glad Buffy didn't lose you, even if it's hard to believe you two 'found' each other to begin with._

"Part of that's down to you. You helped 'em take care of me."

"I know." _I just can barely remember. It's like a bad dream, moving on autopilot, bringing bandages, putting towels down to catch the blood, heating up blood- so much blood._

"Sorry. Bad memories. For all of us."

"A lot of that going around." She whispered.

"You two- seem happier now then when you left."

"Guess we are."

"I thought it might be a bit rough. All I wanted to say was glad you're holdin' up."

"Thank you. Y-you too." She referred to him and Buffy. And Dawn, in a different way. It wasn't easy for them either, she knew that and she tried to understand it.

"Rupes is a bit of a dark horse." Spike suddenly chuckled- then sobered. "A good one. I can tell."

"I can tell, too." Tara reminded him, eyes harder than usual. He had the sense to nod and treat her like the knowledgeable woman she was. "You're not stupid, Spike."

"Not about most things." He snorted, thinking about his weaknesses, particularly the two bossy bints he lived with. She was giving him an appraising stare. He gave her one back as she smiled briefly and walked inside.

"Well, well. Two dark horses." He lit up with a smirk. "Good for them."

* * *

"We'll have to work out a patrolling rotation, and of course it will have to coincide with who can watch Dawn, or where she can go. It's going to be important to establish consistent routines, now that three of you are back to classes and school. We can't have your grades falling. Dawn's going to be under scrutiny with her guidance counselors, I imagine. After her 'rough end of the year', and taking so many incompletes and partial credits. She'll have a heavier course load, won't she?"

Buffy tried not to feel defensive. "I don't know. I know I _should _know, but I don't. And my GPA is on life support right now. Missing finals gave me Cs and Ds in all my classes."

"We'll help you study. Tara's very smart, you know."

"I know. Willow liked smart ones. Oz. Tara. I think Xander qualified as street smarts. Maybe." They laughed in the warm night air. "Hey. We laughed."

"I heard."

"I can't remember when we did that."

"Tonight at dinner?"

"Before tonight."

"It's been a very, very long time." He admitted softly.

"I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're staying."

He coughed and polished his glasses. "W-well, that's the plan. Yes. I'm pleased, too." Giles harrumphed into his handkerchief. "Right. The schedule."

"Spike can patrol with me most nights. He likes it."

"I'm sure he does."

"As long as Tara can still watch Dawnie at your place or mine, I guess."

"Ah. Well. We will need to spend several nights a week at home. Often a-alone, I would imagine. That is typical of a newlywed couple."

"That's because they're doing the wacky every five minutes." Buffy sounded slightly whiny. "How many is several? I thought we were going to kick Slayer training into high gear now that you're back on the payroll and Travers is nosing around."

He didn't answer. Stuck on the phrase, unfortunate though it was, about the actions of newlyweds.

_I imagine that is part of what we'll be doing alone. If we're alone. If we both care to. On some of the nights. Not 'the wacky'. The simple act of togetherness. Sitting and reading. Talking. Eating. Research. Sleeping. _

Her body arching under his. His bed indenting with her hips, then with his, as they took turns over top of one another, loving hands caressing. Hands pleasuring...

"Giles! Come in, Giles!"

"Three times a week- o-of ending up at home at a reasonable hour. That seems normal."

"Reasonable hours for Slaying means when all the stupid college kids get home safe. Say two thirty to three."

"I'm aware of that." He sighed. "I'm doing my best to juggle a wife and being a Watcher. If you'll recall, at this time one may be essential to my remaining the other. And for my entire career as a Watcher, particularly on active duty, I've had to choose between having a woman in my life or keeping my sacred duty, and the precious few times I attempted to combine the two, it went badly. The only reason this may work is because Tara is already involved and would continue to be, with or without me. She and I are both making willing sacrifices, but we cannot sacrifice everything."

Buffy stopped walking, stunned. "Giles... I'm sorry. I... I- I'm sorry." Words failed her. She'd never heard him speak like that. Angry. No, she'd heard angry a lot. Angry and like really, really deeply pissed off and worried. Almost like he was blaming her, but she knew he wasn't._ Like he's blaming himself? His life? I don't know, I don't get it. But I _am_ sorry. _

"It's fine. And don't think that simply because I'm at home that I won't be researching whatever evil element we're dealing with, o-or practicing my magical skills. Tara's very powerful you know, very focused. She taught Willow more than one can imagine. I don't have Willow's abilities, of course, but I could do with some more training. I might become more useful under her guidance." Giles marched on, his sentences flowing out forcefully, tight timbre of his voice as if trying to hold in some secret rage.

"Whoa, whoa Giles, I get it! I - I really am sorry, okay? I know you and Tara need time together, you have to make it look real. I know you've never, ever stopped trying to help me, at home, out patrolling, whatever. " She grabbed his arm as he kept going, long strides that seemed to be pushing even her Slayer speed.

He turned, jaw hard, eyes softening from their iron state. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She hugged him suddenly, making him let out a rush of air.

"Oof!" He found himself smiling over her petite form. "Buffy, really."

"I just don't want to lose you. Even if you stay... I don't want it to be different." She sniffled suddenly. "Everything is different. I wish it could go back to the way- I want Willow back. Mom. I want my Dad to give a crap, but he doesn't and I don't think he ever will again, so I need you. I wish I wasn't the Slayer half the time, but then I wouldn't have you. Or Dawn. Some other Slayer would have her, right?"

"Most likely, yes." He smoothed her hair and patted her back. "It's all right to wish things were different. We all have." _We all have, and we don't tell each other how much, or why. Tara and I do that. All of us do that- on rare moments. _"We are what we are. Surviving. Trying."

"I'm tired of trying and failing."

"Then count the millions of times you succeeded."

"I couldn't do it without you!"

"And now you don't have to!" He pushed her back, staring at her determinedly. "Everything is changing Buffy, but some things never will. We all love each other. We have bonds. Everyone needs those bonds, Buffy. We have to do whatever it takes to keep them." He shut his eyes, a sudden wave of pain crossing over his face, "Without them, we actually will lose ourselves."

_He looks like he hurts. Hurts all over. Looks like I feel when I think about Mom. When I think about Willow._ "It hurts. I know." _I think sometimes we forget they hurt. The grown ups. Only now I'm a "grown up" and I _know_ it hurts. _"The thing with Tara-"

"Married, Buffy. I'm _married to her_."

"I shouldn't have... I thought about you two. I shouldn't have." She bit her lip, and her wide eyes became even wider, filled with misery.

"I'm very glad you did. I - quite honestly, Buffy, I love being married to her. She is a wonderful friend, wonderful company, a sweet loving person whom I trust fully. That's far more than many marriages have."

Buffy blinked. "You were all sad and in pain when you were talking just now. I thought you were miserable!"

"I was. And now I'm feeling quite a lot better. Because of the bond I've created with her. "

"But Tara- I'm glad and everything, but Tara and you..." She trailed off. Saying "It's not real" didn't seem right. "I'm glad you're able to make the best of it, and you're actually enjoying it. It's not really what I expected you to say..."

"I doubt we expected you and Spike to move in together."

"He was two minutes from dusting! We had to bring him somewhere to heal."

"And then he stayed for all these months, though he was mobile in a few weeks." Giles pointed out.

Buffy's cheeks flushed. "He didn't have to help us. He's good with Dawn."

"He's good to _you,_ Buffy."

She wanted to deny it. Just couldn't lie to him. "He isn't good. But he's good to us." She whispered, almost guiltily.

"Why are you sad? That's cause for celebration. He cares for you and wants to help you and your sister. He helps all of us, and he's been very kind and supportive."

Buffy just blinked. Then nodded slowly. "No one says anything. Okay, _Xander _says stuff sometimes, but not anything bad. Just kind of gripe-y. I can't blame him. We complain about Anya too and she was demon waaay longer than Spike if we want to get technical and do a body count."

"Does he give you something you need?"

Buffy's mind did a fast forward from bringing him home, broken and shattered, to his feeble extension of an arm, her sobbing into it, then on his chest. The healing days, him holding her, stroking her hair with one blue and black hand. Catching him crying. Catching Dawn crying on his chest, in the same position she'd been in, yet reading in his eyes an entirely different kind of emotion. And one bad, bad night- when she was crying and he was crying, and then there was kissing and there was sliding to the floor and- stopping. Greedy, soulless, evil vampire saying he loved her and he'd wait until she wasn't sobbing and drowning her sorrows in him since she couldn't hold her liquor. Realizing she wasn't choosing an outlet, she was choosing him, and telling him so.

"Buffy? I'm not judging, I was merely asking, dear."

"He gives me things I need. Lots of them." He says he loves me. Sometimes I think I ... I need him. I care. That's enough for right now. Maybe more will get there. Soon. She swallowed hard. "I don't know what you want me to say, Giles."

"I want you to say you're happy with him. He provides you comfort, help, whatever else it is you want or need."

"He does. I do. I mean, yes, I can say that." She blurted.

"Good! We all need some kind of special bond with one another. In our little 'family' there are many special bonds, but a bond of a relationship -even one that is not romantic, yet it is based on love and a marriage, needs time to develop. Like yours. I know what you and Spike have is far from 'traditional', but I'm -shocking as it is- glad you have it. I believe we can find something good in whatever we have left, Buffy. If we give it time. They may not be what we hoped for, planned for- I know they're not based on romance- well, not on our part anyway, but they are valuable and special."

"You and Tara." She murmured, confused yet understanding as she listened to his speech. She hadn't expected him to say this, to have any sort of desire for a deeper "bond" with someone who was already a friend. Marrying a friend to avoid visa trouble, and then you stay friends but have to act closer, live together was something she understood. Making it more than an act- on reflection, she understood that. Giles and Tara were such amazing people. Of course they'd want it to be the best experience it could be, not for themselves, for the other person. She just hadn't thought about it, expected it. But look at my life the last year. I should totally expect everything to be what I least expect.

"Yes, Tara and I." He coughed into the night air. This patrol was turning out to be a complete wash as far as killing monsters, but maybe this was just as important to the group's survival. "We all need to support each other in surviving." He murmured. "In getting what we need, keeping what we have left whole, whatever the 'whole package' comes in, looks like."

"We will. I promise." Buffy swallowed. "Thanks. For what you said about Spike. It might have started out just kind of grieve-y and comforting-"

"But then you discovered something real and genuine once the pain stops for a moment?"

"Wow." She squinted at him hard. "Am I that obvious?"

"Actually, yes. It is to someone who knows you well." _Though I was able to finish that thought because I've had it myself lately._

The hard stare didn't stop. _And I know you well. If I take time to look, I can still prove I'm not too busy trying to be a "mom" and a sister, and a girlfriend, and a friend, _and _not drown in my life to prove I still know you. Watcher-mine._ "Sounds like you're serious about Tara, too."

_Ah. And the obviousness is on both sides._ He smiled grimly, saying something that would allow her to see, without allowing her to see too much. Some things are not meant to be blurted out in front of grave stones. "Tara is my wife. I'm as serious about her being my wife as I am about you being - being like a daughter to me. I do not intend to take any more relationships lightly. They are too precious, and God only knows how long they last."

_"Tara is my wife." Tara is Giles' _wife.

_ Giles is Tara__'s husband. _

_ I__'m jealous. _"I'm jealous."

"What?" He tripped over an ornamental wreath and sprawled in the grass. "Buffy!"

"Not like _that_! Gutter brain. She gets to be 'legally' related to you." Buffy pouted and helped him up.

_Oh thank God for small mercies and fewer complications_. "If you want, when my citizenship goes through, I could offer to legally adopt you, but we'd have to get your father's consent regarding Dawn since she's a minor, and Tara would become your mother. Adoptively speaking."

"I don't really need the paperwork, Giles. I can still be jealous that she can tell Travers where to stick it if he throws that 'emotional attachment, father's love' stuff around."

"I'll tell you what. If he tries that again- we'll all tell him exactly where he can go." His eyes glinted in the dark. "And then we'll send him there."

"Ha. I wish. Are we _sure_ he's human?"

"He is." _But that didn't stop me before..._

"Speaking of things I wish were dead- this place is. No pun." Buffy looked around the cemetery. "Wanna hit another or head home?"

"It's been a very exhausting few days. I vote for a more extensive patrol tomorrow, turning in for now."

* * *

"D-do you think they thought it was rude of us not to have them come over to help?" Tara carried in the final box and bumped the door closed with her hip.

"Buffy might have minded a bit. Xander and Anya were relieved." Giles chuckled. He surveyed the cartons in the living room, the piles of clothes stacked on the sofa. "Now the real fun. Putting everything where it belongs."

"Two step process. _Figuring out _where it belongs." Tara rubbed her eyes.

"You just put it wherever suits you." Giles waved vaguely around the room. "Your home, you know."

"Ours!" Tara reminded him, heading to the couch, hoisting an armful of hangers. "At least I know where to put these." She began to climb the stairs.

"I'll bring the rest." Giles awkwardly managed to get the pile of clothes in his arms, trying not to step on any of the long skirts and dresses that were escaping over his elbow.

"Thanks. Oof. I have all these light gauzy, cotton things. Why is my stuff so heavy?" Tara grunted softly, narrowly avoiding tripping over the top step.

"I don't know. But you look lovely. Th-the things you choose. Very flattering." Giles coughed.

Tara blushed. "Thank you." He was trying to give her a compliment. A physical one. And she'd tried to do that as well, the remark about his cute rear end._ Which it is. _She flung the clothes down on the bed, and hurriedly began picking up the ones that had managed to cling to the hangers.

Trying not to think about the body of the man next to her.

Women's bodies were softer. More fun to explore. Such amazing, intricate beauty.

_But I never really studied a man's before. As in "touching, tasting, time to look at things" studying. Not just sketching, not just looking at art books and muscle mass in composition._

With her first two, and only two, male partners, it had been about learning and about fun. Everything hurried and giggly.

_Rupert is probably just as amazing to explore. Not soft. Hard. I'm an artist, aren't I? I can see the beauty in him. The way his hairs curl, soft and wiry at once. The way he feels, so hard and so warm, but his skin is soft over the muscles. Like him. Soft and hard blending. _

Giles was quietly rehanging whatever had fallen off the hangers, watching her move silently about him, spending a long, silent time putting things in the wardrobe. "Tara?"

"Huh?" She started and exclaimed.

"If you don't think you want your things in here, there's a mostly empty closet in the other bedroom. It's no trouble to help move it down. If you want."

_What I want. Is to appreciate him again tonight._ "I was just thinking that- the stuff d-downstairs could wait until tomorrow. If that's okay. I know it's messy..."

"Oh. Yes, fine." Giles nodded quickly. "The mess is easily dealt with later, and we're both tired."

"Right. I need to clear off the bed and then we- we can lie down." Her voice dropped.

He was trying to learn her signals and cues. He wasn't sure if the suddenly lowering voice and the avoidance of his eye meant she wanted to stay near him but was worried about telling him she didn't want to do things of the physical nature. Or could it mean she was shy about saying she_ did_?

"I'll just take a quick rinse." Giles nodded. "Can you manage by yourself? Move my things wherever you need to."

"Oh, yeah, fine. I'll be done soon." Tara nodded hastily.

* * *

Little breathing room. Head clearing room. He groaned as his hands went down past his torso, slick with soap._ Stop that. You're not giving yourself any space from her at all. You brought her in with you._ His imagination tumbled over lustful images. _Stop that!_

_ No, do it now, so you don__'t act like some ravening beast._

_ No, save it for her, in case she wants to do... things. It__'d be terrible to be unable to perform properly before you've hit your one month anniversary, wouldn't it? And not like you couldn't hold off even if she doesn't. How long were you alone, only your hand for company?_

He turned the shower on cold, and shivered off the soap.

* * *

She passed him in the living room. "Bed's cl-clear." She smiled and he nodded, the same sort of smile on his face- shade too bright, shade too wide. She hurried through her nightly routine, pausing when she came to removing her clothes. Not so much the thought of removing them, but of what to put on next.

_What if he doesn't want to tonight?_

_ He does. He doesn__'t want to push, but I know he wants to. Wants to every night. Because I... I think I do . For now. I don't want to lose the special moments between us. It's never just been something quick and then off to sleep, or out of each other's way. _

_ Every time has meant something. Healed something. _

_ I love him. I want to feel him close to me, no matter what we do_.

She took a shaking breath and put on her robe with nothing under it. When she felt ready to undo it, and when saw what was waiting underneath, there would be no more questioning about what she wanted.

He always provided what she needed.

* * *

He settled on the pajama bottoms. No shirt. Lit two candles from last night. Leaving his top off meant something in his mind- and because it mattered to him, he felt like Tara already understood it.

_It means I'm here, scars and all, available. It means my wounds are out to be healed. I'll try to heal hers. We tried that at first. It wasn't sexual. It became so. This is the same thing. Need not become physical, may if it's mutual._

* * *

"Aww, you made it look so cozy." Tara smiled when she came up the stairs, seeing the candles and the turned down bed, fluffed pillows.

"Everything seems more inviting with you." He grinned and finished repositioning some odds and ends that had been moved to accommodate more of her things. He was turned from her for a moment. Felt her eyes on him. Wondered how much she could see in the low lights. Decided she was welcome to all of him, just as he was. "Tonight went well. No on seemed overly skeptical. Very supportive. Some may have an inkling." He coughed.

"Not a secret. Just not sure what to say. If I want to say it."

"They noticed a difference." He turned toward her. "As they should."

"Mmhmm." She was still standing by the bed, heart fluttering with unneeded nerves.

"Um. May I take your robe?" Giles offered, stepping partially behind her.

_I forgot about the manners. Always chivalrous. Intense and then the gentleman._ She smiled. Her hands fumbled at the knot but yet she kept undoing it. "Thank you." Her cheeks colored as the sides parted, fell open, and she paused.

His throat tightened. What a glorious sight, and what a trusting one as well. His fingers slid down the fabric slowly, as if removing a coat from a female guest, only with much more reverence. He gave a quick push at his own waistband and let his trousers fall.

Tara could feel him behind her now. Naked skin to naked skin. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, all with this sweet, deliberate slowness. His hands reached around her front- then fell back. She smiled to herself. _He's so kind to be so careful. _ She reached back, found his wrists, and brought his arms around her again. "It's okay."

"I love you. Thank you for letting me have this again." He breathed as he_ wrapped around her middle. His hands hesitated, longing to travel up and down. Slowly. Gently. She is your borrowed treasure, not a possession. Don't take. Never take_. "We- we've done so much, and I find myself- feeling like each time is still new and different."

"This is." _Never did this before. Always feels comfortable, but new. Like the next page in an amazing story. An amazing story in a book you never, ever would have picked up, but it fell in your lap. Once you started, you couldn't stop. _

_ Can__'t stop. Don't want to stop._

"Rupert?"

The next words are hard to say for many people, particularly for one who has devoted his life and talents to serving another. "I'm here. If you could just- help me?"

Why did that make tears spring up? Did it remind her of Willow's uncertain first time? She should say uncertain first minutes, because like everything else, Willow mastered and learned whatever she was shown almost at once. "I don't know what happens next either." Tara told him, shifting, turning to face him. "I know it's with you. It'll be fine. Better than fine, amazing.W-we can help each other."

He nodded, then paused, worry in his eye. "I never want to presume..." _Even within the context of lovemaking, that I can touch and grab, like the man I might've been. Most of my sexual experiences were ruthless and about physical actions, no emotions , no cares. And then ... with her it's the complete inverse. The physical comes last, and when it comes- oh bliss._

"I want you to presume- no, to _know_\- that anything you want to do is okay." She pressed close to him, chest to chest. Her eyes were so bright, then dimmed slightly, dropping. "Just not too hard- or too big where I-"

"Shhhh. That is one thing I did understand, and have learned." He lifted her chin. " Only the softest there, love. And only when you show me it's time."

"Rupert..." She winced from the hard twinges she suddenly got inside, both painful and pleasurable.

"Let me try to make it better." He rubbed his hand across her neck, to her breast, and they entwined, a long, rocking, hug. "Lay back?"

She laid.

He knelt.

"Oh God." Tara gasped, a good, but awed gasp.

"I wish I could make all your pain stop and never come back." He looked up at her, even in the mostly dark room finding her eyes effortlessly.

"You're helping." Tara breathed out.

"That's my intention." He smiled, hand tentatively stroking from the soft hollow under her breast bone down. "Relax first, so that next we- we can just enjoy." He kissed his way from her calf to her pink center. His voice was so low she could barely hear it. "I know what it's like to hurt because you'd like to be with someone, and there's nothing that can fill the void. Your pain is different, more complex, layers of pain on top of that, behind it. But we do have things in common." His first kiss, under her navel, then down in her curls. "Just let me love the parts that hurt, and I promise I'll do my best to heal, teach them they're safe. Need never hurt again." A soft trail of kisses from thigh to thigh, and top to opening.

Safe. Never hurt again. She wanted to believe that. She did believe that. Maybe he could convince her body of the same thing.

She reached down for his face, only to find all her fingers could reach was the tousle of graying brown hair at the top of his head.

"Stop?" He asked.

"No. Just... believing you."

He smiled, not that she could see it.

* * *

Tara watched him climb up on the bed, put his arm under her shoulders as she finished spasming. "Intense." She finally managed to say.

"I could tell." He smiled down on her and licked his lips. Proof of it still lingering there, and bringing out something wolfish in him.

"You're really good. Like-" her eyes rolled up to meet his as he leaned over her, "like lesbian good."

"I _think_ I'm highly complimented." He chuckled, not quite sure how he felt about that.

"Be complimented. It's l-like you know exactly what feels good, which in my experience- wh-which isn't a lot- guys know that less than girls, 'cause different parts. Or it's faster because- um- I don't know. The t-taste? Or they want to get to the 'real sex' part."

"Whereas for you and your -for you and Willow, this was culmination enough?" He didn't have his glasses. If he had, he might've been tempted to pull them off for a good shining.

"Not always, Willow really liked something in-" Tara froze, suddenly looking confused and some other mixture of emotions she couldn't quite place. Nor could Giles.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you think of her if this wasn't the right time." He finally said.

"It seems wrong, sometimes. To-to tell the private things. Certain private things. I wasn't thinking. Just talking."

"Perhaps that's healthy. You felt comfortable to talk about her, about you, what you like. Perhaps you're helping me learn." He rubbed her back soothingly. "I won't press for details. I'm only glad that you feel I'm doing a good job." She sank against him, that worried look leaving her face, her hand finding his and twining her fingers through. They were sliding down together, him on his side, her rolling to it, nothing sexual in their gestures, more comforting, more about togetherness.

"The best job you can do. Surprising me all the time, more and more how- how good it is to be with you." Her hand moved up to his chest. "In bed, and just together."

"I love you. Remember that?" _Even if we're not in love, I do love her. She should always feel safe here, if I can help it. _

"I will." She leaned over, kissed him.

He groaned and felt his semi-hard cock turn to full steeliness just from that. Dear _God_, she was a good kisser. This quiet girl- well, apparently her tongue had been put to a considerable amount of physical practice, even if she didn't talk much.

She giggled, puffed up a little bit about how she made him weak for her. Not maliciously pleased at her power, merely enjoying feeling confident, mutually skilled. "I love you. And I like the way you taste - af-after." That confused and pained look abruptly returning.

"Darling, what is it?"

"I don't know."

He nodded. Looked down at the place where her hand lay on his chest, just over the scar Buffy'd given him, stabbing him when he was in demonic form, unrecognizable. "I said I wouldn't press, and I won't. But... honestly, I think we can tell each other anything. Past or present. Anything we feel compelled to, that is. Anything needing of unburdening. I know that- hrm- hard as it is for me to talk about certain things, I do trust you to listen if needed." He smiled all at once, an absolutely glowing smile Tara was surprised to see. "You're my wife. The closest bond I have ever had outside of the Slayer- Watcher relationship."

That melting, swelling feeling of a shattered heart trying to glue itself back together filled her chest. "Thank you." She pushed her arms up around his neck and hugged him tight, sighing when his arms went around her waist and returned the embrace. "I worry I might upset you if I -if I say things about how I liked it with women. Make you feel like I don't like it with you. Because that's not true. I swear. I've... I've never felt this way about a person, male or female, the way I feel with you. So close to. And I love when we make love, whatever we do, I'm r-really happy." The puzzled look was back, though less. Giles couldn't see it as they lay cheek to cheek, her head on top of his.

Giles felt like his heartbeat was quickening, dancing along suddenly. _She's happy, even with whatever I can be, different as it is from what she previously had._ "I respect what you had. I'm not a fool. I know it was different." He shifted, moving back so they were eye to eye, looking at her with an understanding half-smile, gently trying to convey something in both words and expression. "I know that even as much as you enjoy what we do, of course you'll still have memories, still prefer certain things. Adding me to your life shouldn't diminish what it was before, just like adding you to mine has only given me new experiences, not erased old ones." Now a swallow, the soft smile fading and his voice becoming serious, even a little bit sad, almost wistful.

"I find you naturally very beautiful."

"You do?" Tara knew he wasn't done, yet she blurted it out, surprised, pleased.

"How could I not?" He gestured to her with his fingertips, letting them highlight all the features he was now appreciating. "You have the sweetest face. Lovely smile. Lovely - hrm- body. Much, much more than lovely." _Plentifully filling any man's imagination, and then when she's with you, she lives up to the images- softness, warmth, suppleness. Then she overflows that imagination- touching you inside as well as out, making love something mental and spiritual, as well as orgasmic._

"Thank you. Wow."

Her shy voice brought him out of his mental wanderings. "No need to thank me. Any man, or woman, would be able to tell you that. It's glaringly apparent. "

_But no one else ever told me like you. Made me think "wow, it's gotta be true", because he's this wise, sophisticated, experienced guy, and he's not looking at me with goo-goo eyes, or just wanting to get me into bed. He means what he said. _

"The point being, you're beautiful, and I'm- hrm- now attracted to that beauty. Appreciative of it, I should say. It's a bonus to the arrangement that the person I'm loving is also like a fantasy image of what I could want in a partner." He cleared his throat yet again, this part so difficult to say, yet it shouldn't be. "I know you can't feel that way about me. That even though you've so kindly said I'm handsome, I'm nothing that would attract you, wouldn't be what you would look for in an ideal physical specimen."

"Hey! Hey, th-that's not true! And you're not a guinea pig, so don't t-talk like that about y-yourself." Tara scolded, speaking so fast her usually absent stammer was back.

"Darling, you're not bruising my ego by not being attracted to me. I knew that you could never be."

"Well- I am! Attracted!" Tara's eyes glared at him pointedly. "I'm attracted to you, who you are, not a -a body part you have. Or don't have."

_She's attracted to me. We are attracted to each other. At least on the platonic, mental level. The intangibles. Not the physical. And the physical, at least for two people attempting to have sort of sexual compatibility, does matter. _"You're very kind." _Now how to say the rest? _"An attraction on some level, that's very sweet of you. But I know you have preferences, and I'm not trying to change them."

"Rupert?" A low, somewhat tight voice. Tight with something held in, held back. "Listen to me."

"Always." His eyes widened.

"I think, no, I'm sure, that you are who I prefer right now." She put her hand over his mouth, just one, quick, darting touch, before pulling her soft fingers away, because she would never try to silence him, just wanted him to listen to the rest. "After Willow d-died, and I- I finally realized it was real... it was like it took a long time to get it." She stopped, momentarily unable to speak.

"It still doesn't seem real. Quite a lot of the time." Giles whispered, letting her know that he felt the same.

"One thought I kept having, over and over- 'I will never look at another woman. Not after Willow.' I kept thinking that. A-and I think I meant it."

"Tara, you shouldn't feel that way- and with grief so fresh - I felt that way after Jenny. That I would never love again. I won't say that you should 'move on', or that you should love another, but is it fair to yourself to - to take the possibility away?"

"Rupert, shh. That wasn't what I _said_. And maybe you're right. But it was my thought, and it didn't go away. I will never look at another woman again. It doesn't mean I can't look at_ you. _M-maybe you're meant for me. At this time."

What an earth-shattering thought. That it wasn't only for the sake of some papers and legalities. That something starting out as a simple way to stave off more grief, might actually heal some?

"If you think I'm meant for you - if that's okay to say." Tara heard the words, felt them coming out of her body as well as her mouth. A sudden panicking trembling. _What am I saying? I love Willow!_

_ I love him too. So differently. _

He gathered her up, feeling her tremble, hearing something hitching in her breathing, like she was on the verge of hyperventilation. "I'm flattered. I- would love that to be true."

"I wouldn't lie to you." She suddenly sniffled.

"Oh, Love. Love, it's true. I only was trying to- be unselfish. Not expect you to feel the same sort of physical feelings if they didn't come naturally. I would _love_ to be meant for you, and you're indeed meant for me, if how much better I feel with you is anything to go by." Giles rocked her, kissing her hair, cradling her cheek in one palm as he rested his forehead to hers. "Forgive me if I brought up something painful?"

"Just... a little scary. New."

"I agree." _We've done a lot of things, very rapidly. He comforted himself that at least everything was done mutually._ "Maybe we moved too quickly?"

"No. Maybe. M-maybe just quick enough." She nuzzled her cheek to his palm, then into his chest. "One thing was too fast."

"Ah?" He felt like he was holding his breath, waiting for her to lay a blow, gently given of course, but one that would still hurt, meaning they needed to pull back. He knew he should expect it, he had just hoped to avoid it. "What's that?" He whispered.

"You're not giving me much time to learn how attractive you are. Y-you know? I _am_ attracted. But I'm out of practice with guys." Her nuzzle seemed to deepen, burrow, her arms clung.

"Oh. _Oh!_" Relief coursed through him.

"I'm an art major, Giles. I took life classes. I studied bodies. I see beauty in both sexes. I think men can be really handsome. Just not what I was looking for. I'm still not. Not looking for a girl, either. I'm j-just looking at_ you_ now."

"Of course. Right." He felt he made no sense, just mindlessly agreeing as his body relaxed, tension fleeing.

"It's been a long time." A whisper that wasn't flirtatious, yet it seemed like there was temptation in it, gently leading him along. "Could I have more time to explore? You've only been my husband for a few days. Still getting familiar with all the p-parts." And I can't do what other girls do. Not as easily. Even if it used to feel good. She sucked in a lung full of air as he wordlessly nodded. "I was going to tell you earlier... Willow? It's pr-private."

"It's our secret. If it helps me understand something, you tell me, and I promise it will just remain part of the secrets we keep. Husband's honor." He tried to make her smile.

"What you said, about culminating?" She blushed.

"Hm. Yes?"

"It can be. It's not a guarantee. Willow liked- I mean..." She gave him a desperate look. "It's not a gay or straight thing. It's where you get the best feelings from. She liked - well, she didn't hurt inside. So..."

"Right. Of course." It clicked, both of them slightly uncomfortable.

"We tried. On me, I mean. I wanted to get it back, because before... before what happened, I could. I could_ hard,_ Giles." A faraway voice, hints of anger in them. Anger and resignation.

_And he broke her. No scar tissue- more like scare tissue. Afraid of the pain._ "If I ever see your father again, you know I might kill him, don't you?"

She blinked. Did she know that? Could she see it in him- the man who would kill for the sake of one he loved? "Yes. But I wish you wouldn't. I don't think I'd like visiting you in jail."

He swallowed. _She said it so calmly. Like she knows. Knows I could, really could._ "If he touches you, I make no promises, Tara." Husbands shouldn't lie to their wives.

"I hope I never see him again." She spat it out quickly, then moved away from the memories.

"I join you in that. And I understand, Love. Nothing more than lips and - fingers seem to be working well?" He raised one eyebrow.

"That. I like that."

"Fingers?"

"When you raise one eyebrow. That's sexy." She smiled, traced it. Found another scar along his temple. This one was deep, like a seam, and she wondered what caused that one.

"And you like my rear." He teasingly grinned.

"I like- I like this too." She let her fingertip trace his cock, which at this point was more soft than stiff. She noticed that changed, just from the lightest of touches.

"It's yours, as much as you want of it." He breathed out.

"I would like all of it- just having ..." She trailed off. "I'm going to try sometime."

"Don't rush. I know it's not the same size as- these." He ran his fingertips lovingly over her neck, over one breast.

"We tried. Willow and me. T-toys?"

"Oh." For some reason that surprised him. But it shouldn't. He suddenly understood more clearly what Tara had meant. Willow enjoyed the fuller sensation, Tara wanted to, didn't. Climax was caused by different things, even in the same gender. _Well, obviously. _"Hm. I believe you said in your experiences, men neglected the oral arts?" Another eyebrow arch. Tara nodded, smiling slightly. "Rushing along to the real act, or because they didn't like the taste?"

"I've heard that."

"I like the way you taste. And I'm in no hurry."

She moved her head, tongue moving out to catch his lower lip before diving in. "I like the taste too."

"I'll share." He promised. His blood started pumping, faster, harder, mostly seeming to flow down. "May I? Again?"

"Mm. Yes. After."

"After?"

"It's time for me to explore, remember? Find out more about how much I'm attracted to you- on the physical." She was wriggling down.

He didn't speak. Wasn't sure what exactly she was doing.

"You- no offense, you look a little different from my two boyfriends. And the life models." She was moving her head down, her legs curling up, languidly resting on her side at thigh level.

"I - imagine most of the young men are - 'cut'." He moved his hand over his tip. "It wasn't as popular in England when I was born." He had two quick pants in the middle of his sentence, one when she picked him up in her fist, one when her hand pushed the skin up and down, bringing his tip to her lips.

"Mm hmm." She kissed her way down. His eyes closed and he rolled to his back. She moved with him.

"S-some women enjoy the extra width at the - the tip because it... it seems to... I can't talk properly when you do that." He suddenly gasped.

"Because the more inside, the better it feels for some women. I get that." _I want that. Not the organ itself. I want it because it belongs to him. _Her hands moved to his legs, and her mouth lazily moved more onto him.

"Bloody hell." He gasped. This was not the momentary kiss she'd placed on him earlier. It had been so long. Not since Olivia. A full year and a half, and several years before her. He and Joyce hadn't and he and Jenny hadn't, and Tara was the last person in the entire universe he had ever pictured bobbing her head on him as she looked up at him for approval.

"I o-only did this like four times before." She confessed, pausing with a slight slurp. "That's the good kind of bloody hell, right? 'Cause when Spike says it- well he says it all the time and I have to figure out the mood based on the context or what Buffy said. Or what's on the television." She was babbling, nervous.

"You're - amazingly good." _Better than anyone I've ever had. Because she loves me. Every action, even this one, she makes an expression of love. _"Best." He closed his eyes and let her do whatever she wanted.

* * *

She made him arch, like he made her. Made him groan and make soft little hissing sounds, like he made her. She wasn't sure what the heck she was doing, but she found she was quite enjoying it. She worried the extra bit of skin at the tip and that was when he made a low, heavy grunt, and pushed her head away. "Sorry! Is that a 'no teeth' zone?"

"I'm going to cum." He pulled her up, harder than he meant to, and locked his jaw, tried silently reciting verses out of the Vulgate, anything to distract and calm.

"I wanted you to! I mean- well, I hoped I would make you feel that good." She cocked her head. "You look more like I hurt you."

_It's because I can't possibly cum near her mouth, or her face. _He remembered the last moments he had witnessed of her terrible experience, her father standing over her, the feeling of something hot hitting her face, like a final parting insult. The drunken lout was simply finishing wherever he stood, but Giles was afraid of triggering a memory. "I'm not in pain- I'm in ecstasy. Wanted to make sure I shared it with you." He told the near-complete truth.

"Oh good." She let out a sigh, and moved on top of him, hips over his, in what was fast becoming a familiar position. "Love you."

"Love you."

* * *

To be continued…


	7. Chapter 7

**Union**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ A story about love, but maybe not about romance. A sweet little piece about two gentle people who love each other without being in love, trying to overcome regrets, fear, and loneliness in order to keep what's left of their lives together. Completely AU, after season five._

_Author's Note: It's a piece about Tara and Giles. I never imagined I would write such a piece, but the idea would not leave alone until it was written. If you find that wrong, bad, or in someway worth getting upset over, please stop reading. I don't write to make people sad, I write because I love it and I like to share what's in my head with people who are looking to enjoy a flight of fancy. _

_Author's Second Note: Sexual content and way too many words. I'm a storyteller- nowhere in the job description does it say to be succinct._

_Dedicated to AGriffinWriter, ValidescopeWest, Writerdragonfly, TieDyeJackson, kitakana, SaulGood, JustJane18, and Omslagspapper, for their wonderful support. _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** VII**

_Outsiders_

"What'd you and the old man talk about?"

"Relationships and stuff."

Spike coughed and spit out a mouthful of blood. "What?"

"Oh, ew." Buffy closed her eyes. "At least your shirt is black. It won't stain."

"What about relationships?"

She twisted her hands as she twisted in bed, watching him undress, finish his last few sips, and turn back to her. "Just that his and Tara's is serious. Not like 'they're in love' serious. Not taking it lightly. It's more than a show."

"Got the same impression from her."

"You talked to Tara about relationships?" Her voice rose in shock.

"Singular. How she and Rupes were getting on. She said they feel a bit better. Happier."

"Same."

"Good. Least their stories match." He walked out of the bedroom in black and red paisley boxers- Buffy insisted he wear something outside of their room for the sake of Dawn's eyes- and into the bathroom.

Buffy sat up. Frowned. Arms crossed. When Spike walked back in, smelling of toothpaste and whatever he used to get the gel out of his hair at the end of the day, he groaned.

"Bloody hell, Slayer, what'd I do? Was my flap not buttoned?" He was already slipping out of the shorts as the door shut behind him.

"You think it's a story? They're lying to us?"

"No! No, I think they are genuinely happier than before they hitched up. I meant it's good that they both feel it. Why've you got such a knot in your tail?" Spike climbed in beside her.

She shrugged and slid back down into the bed.

"Fine. Don't tell me." He smirked in his cocky way, a lilt to his tone.

"It's nothing, so there isn't anything to tell." She huffed.

He waited.

"He said... Giles said he understood us. You and me. And he's glad I have you."

Spike sat up this time. "That's right nice of him, 'specially seein' as it's been a few months and I'm not goin' anywhere."

"Mmhm."

"You don't like that he said it?"

"He said you care for me."

"I_ love _you." He growled. She never fucking believed it. Cared was okay, loved was not. Demons without souls can't love and this - whatever it was between them- was good, but she wouldn't call it love.

"I know you do." Buffy said so softly that even his sensitive hearing nearly missed it.

"I've said that for months. Even before it all happened." He whispered, eyes blinking rapidly, unable to keep the emotions out of them.

"I believe it now." Her voice was tinier still, scared little voice.

"Luv, don't." If she cried, he'd cry. They spent a hell of a lot of time being soggy and teary together.

"I'm sorry I didn't before." Her eyes overflowed.

_Oh hell. There they go_. "It's all right. Long as you believe me now." _And maybe one day you'll love me back_. "No need to cry, Pet, honest."

"_You're_ crying." She pointed out, sniffing in.

"It's 'cause when you cry, I cry. You hurt, I bloody well hurt."

"Giles said I care for you, too."

"That's true, isn't it, Buffy?" If he had breath, he would have held it.

"Yeah. And- and you know that thing you say you are?"

"In love?"

"And I believe it now?"

"Yes..."

"Well- well, maybe if care is actually love then... you know. Maybe that's how I feel too." Her eyes tried to escape his.

_She loves me. The best she can._

"Spike? Say something?"

"Too happy to talk." He managed to finally reply in a cracking, hoarse voice.

"I said _maybe_."

"But I didn't think you ever would ever get to maybe."

"Then why would you stay?"

"Because I love you, you idiot!" He choked, and grabbed her. "I love you. I love _you_, Buffy Summers, and you might love me back."

"Even maybe makes you this happy?" She wheezed through his crushing embrace.

"Yeah. It does. Pathetic, aren't I?"

"I think before I would have said yes, but now- I think it makes you wonderful. When you stay and you work with whatever pieces are left. Giles told me we have to cherish whatever bonds we have. Whatever they are, whoever they're with. They could go anytime."

"He's smart."

"I don't want to lose you."

"You've got me, Baby."

* * *

"I think they're going to have sex." Anya stated matter of factly.

"Who? Why aren't you asleep?" Xander muttered groggily.

"I was. I was having an erotic dream- you know, the one with the construction site and the whipped cream?"

"I like that one, Ahn, but I told you, I'll get fired." Xander groaned and tried to roll over and go to back to sleep.

"Tara and Giles."

"What?"

"I think one day they're going to have sex."

"She's gay."

"And he was a demon worshipper before he was the best Watcher in the world, on the greatest demon slaying team ever. People 'switch sides'."

"I don't think it's like that for this, honey."

"Okay. Not 'switch sides'. Have one person who gets a loophole."

Sleep was drifting farther and farther away with every syllable. He heard himself prolong the wakefulness, "Why do you say that?"

"She packed his lunch."

"She's packed my lunch, too. I promise, I'm so not going to sleep with her."

"You don't understand. I know humans. They're nesting together."

"I wish you would wait until I've had more than three hours of sleep to tell me stuff." He tried to focus, because he reluctantly accepted that was the only path back to sleep.

"It's like when certain species of birds are going to mate. They prepare a nest together and do nice little things to prove they can be a good provider and mate. I know, I saw a special on one of those science channels. I watched Giles and Tara today at the store and tonight at Buffy's. They're making a 'nest'."

"One, birds are not humans, and you watched humans, not birds. And two, if they didn't fix up their house together, the INS people would deport Giles for trying to stage a phony marriage. They have to act like a good little couple and 'nest'."

"Trust me. I know people. People have a little animal in them, and birds count. Also, Tara kissed him tonight."

"She did what?"

"On the cheek. In front of people!"

Oh geez. She kissed my cheek, too."

"When?"

"Uh... the day we got married. And the day she got married. She did it for the photo."

"Well tonight there was no photographer and no wedding. She did it when he was going out to patrol with Buffy. She kissed him goodbye. On the cheek. That's a mating thing."

"Or a very good friend thing? Maybe?"

Anya stuck stubbornly to her statement. "They're going to have sex. Well, technically they're going to 'make love'. You can tell by looking at them that it won't be some explosion of passion, it'll be very sweet and tender. She's new at it, and he's terminally repressed. It'll be like virgins. Do you know if she ever had a penis before?"

"Oh-kay, that officially does it. I'm going to go sleep in the truck. I'll hit my head on the steering wheel and have sawdust in my hair, but I think I like the non-crazy talk and the way less personal questions the truck has to offer."

"I'm sorry, I was just curious! But it really doesn't matter whether she has or not. Before Tara, Willow hadn't ever had a-"

"Don't talk about Willow!" He cut her off sharply. "Please. Not like that."

Anya stopped at once. "I'm sorry."

"Tara wouldn't do that. She loved- no, she_ loves_ Willow."

"Giles loves her too. That's probably why they'll do it. They feel safe." She rubbed her husband's arm, "If Willow were here, and she had to give everyone someone to help them get through- she'd put us together, then Buffy and Spike, and keep Dawn with them, like the parent figures, and Tara- she'd give Giles to Tara."

"Not the other way around?" He blinked as she used that particular way of putting it.

"She loved Tara, and she had a huge teenager crush on Giles, and she also loved them both like friends. Because they were friends first, she and Tara, and friends last, her and Giles. She'd put them together because Tara'll look after him and treat him like more than just the smart guy you go to when something bad happens, and save him before he turns into an alcoholic. Giles, well, he'll keep her safe and from becoming a nonverbal recluse who has eighteen cats."

Xander stared. He wondered if any of this was a dream. He wondered if any of this was actually being said, and would it ever make sense, and if understanding any of this was based on being alert and not sleep deprived. If that was the case, then he was screwed. "Willow would put Tara with a _man_ old enough to be her_ father_?"

She made an impatient noise. "You, Buffy, and Dawn treat him like your dad- and Willow did too, but Tara, Spike, and I don't. You know why?"

"Oh, God. Why?" He sighed.

"He didn't 'raise' the three of us. Get us through high school and awkward moments of life like proms and almost being killed by things in gym class, didn't have to step in and be the parent when our parents sucked. Spike-obvious reasons. Tara met him in college after already surviving a year on her own, and I- well, I was already alive before his great-great-great- grandparents were born. To me, Giles is still a young hot guy. And he can sing! I hear him more than you guys, because he sings when he catalogs and thinks no one's listening."

"Can I sleep yet? Please?"

"Sure, honey."

"Bless you." He crashed the pillow down over his face. Suffocation or sleep, he'd take either choice right about now.

"But I think they're eventually going to do that thing I said."

He was leaning towards suffocation at this point. "I think you're wrong, but I still love you."

* * *

_Newlyweds_

They made it to class and work, patrol and babysitting.

They made love, in their way, one more time that week, before lack of sleep and abundance of real life work and needs sent them straight to sleep in each other's arms.

Things were unpacked, groceries bought, laundry done.

Letters came. "We've been scheduled." Giles passed her the formal looking paper on Friday night when they both arrived back at the flat after a night of researching and eating pizza at Buffy's. "For a preliminary first interview."

"Once 'substantiating documentation' is received. What's that?"

"Your birth certificate, photo copy of your license or other state issued ID, and our marriage certificate. My documents are already on file, and miraculously they appear not to have lost them." Giles peered over her shoulder, looking at a second sheet of paper, one listing all the various forms of acceptable documentation. "We have to our copies notarized?"

"There's a back." Tara closed her eyes. It was late, it had been one of the longest weeks of her life, and she'd spent three hours trying not to miss Willow too much while sitting in a room with other people who obviously felt her absence as well. The bigger the book or stranger the demons, the more glaringly painful it became that the brightest and quickest among them was gone. Real life was starting again, without her in it. All said, it was getting hard to focus on the tiny type and official-ese, but this was important. This was soon.

Soon for government people. "It says they'll contact us in two to four weeks after they receive our papers, and they request we send them in seven to ten business days following receipt of this letter. How is that fair? Th-that's not fair! Bullies."

"Bureaucrats. Often the same thing." Giles put his arm around her shoulders and patted her once. "Come along. I'll take care of this part. It's late and we're exhausted."

"No class tomorrow."

"The shop is still open from nine to six. Anya is opening, I'm closing. And then I suppose I'd better plan to head out with Buffy and Spike to that wretched place they mentioned."

"The mausoleum?"

"No, the fast food place where people keep disappearing." He winced and rolled his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." He replied with a yawn. He smiled tiredly. "This is a good step. They've contacted us with a request."

"You sound like a hostage negotiator."

"I'm afraid I am. And I'm the one held hostage." He sighed and took off his glasses. "I'll head up."

"You're wrong." She followed him. "They're not only holding you. It's all of us."

"All the more reason to do it right."

They tried to sleep. Failed. Laid in the dark, quizzing each other.

"Wheatabix."

"Blueberry muffin."

"With?"

"Butter, not margarine. And those sugary bits on top."

"Okay. Yardley- citrus and leather."

"Star Sisters lily and white flower?"

"Night Sisters. You sell it at the shop, you're one of the like- five stores in the world that does. It's not perfume, it's-"

"Hand and body lotion." _Now I've seen her put it on. The way she smooths it up over her calves after she shaves her legs, or down her shoulders to her fingertips every morning now that she's unpacked it. _

"Right side."

"Left side."

A pause. Harder part. A list of things they would not be asked about, and the fatal one they would. Would it be one they'd rehearsed or not? They would curse themselves if the one question asked was one they had been too timid to broach.

"Hrm. Contraception?"

"Natural cycle method?" Tara suggested.

"Why? And what exactly are the pertinent details?"

"Because if they ask to see my prescription for the pill, I don't have one. And if they want to see what you have-"

"I have one or two." Giles swallowed. "Leftover. God only knows where I've put them. Suppose I'd better find them. For- for the reason you just said. No other reason." He hastily reassured.

"D-did you throw them out?" Tara whispered. "In case I found them and you thought it would upset me?"

"I don't think so. I might've tossed them in the bin after Olivia left. I -hrm- I was drinking rather a lot for a few weeks." _And I'd given up. She knows. She saw what I was reduced to. Self-pleasuring never required protection, and when one figures alone is all that one will ever be- well…_

"I think we wouldn't use them." Tara murmured after a pause, a way of simultaneously comforting and saving him from embarrassment.

"Then natural fertility it is. It simply follows your - erhrm- cycle?"

"Yeah, you avoid the 'fertile window'. Well, I guess you wouldn't _avoid_ it, you just wouldn't cum in - um. Th-there. I really h-hate the fact th-that I can't talk about this stuff. Easily. Like Anya."

"Does it help that I struggle too? And I'm much, much older? And that if you spoke like Anya, I'd go mad?"

"One 'much' with the older is plenty. Yes. It helps that we can be stammer-y together. And thank you for not liking me blunt. I can't…" She struggled for a way to describe what she couldn't do, why she couldn't.

"I understand." He murmured. Then his voice rose to a happier, louder pitch. "We aren't lying to the immigration interviewer this way, love." Giles suddenly realized. "Because I haven't- inside."

"Yet." She pointed out, unthinking.

_Oh. That makes it sound like he will. _

_ Maybe he will. _

_ Oh damn._ Giles swallowed. Throat tight. Chest tightening. Other parts stiffening. "Quite. Wh-when does your - when are the- I think perhaps we need some pens and paper?"

"My period is around the third week of the month. You'll know." She closed her eyes.

"Should I do anything differently?"

"Not really."

"That's easy, then." He let out a relieved breath. "Less squeamish subjects? Not that I find that unpalatable. I mean, upsetting! I meant, difficult to talk about- oh dammit. Tara, would you like anything to drink?" He sat back up, legs swinging over the edge of the bed.

"Rupert, stop." She was laughing, eyes half lidded and relaxed, she grabbed his wrist to prevent him from escaping in his unneeded embarrassed. "I understand you."

A heartbeat. "You do. Quite well."

Two silent swallows. "You get me, too."

He reclined. She snuggled in.

Rolled on her side, her chest to his ribs. Her leg soon draping over his as her head came to rest on his shoulder.

Giles' arm went under her waist seamlessly, pulling her close._ I shouldn't pull any closer. _He could feel the softness of her breasts against his side, and the softness of the hollow above her thigh over his own. _What's more, I'm sure she can feel that her softness gains my hardness_. He shifted, clearing his throat quietly.

"You don't have to pull away." A whisper, almost scared, against his ear.

"Never pull away from you, Tara. Perhaps physically, shortly." He lost his struggle for a contained voice, and it came out as labored at the end.

She nodded, but didn't move away herself. She licked her lips tentatively. "They can't ask anything_ too_ personal, can they?"

"I believe they can ask for distinguishing marks, preferences, peculiarities, favorites, all in general terms, of course." He craned his neck so he could meet her eyes, even half hidden in his chest as she was. "You don't answer anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. You did this to help me, I'm not having it become something negative, to your own expense. Well, _more_ to your own expense."

"Aside from the- the one b-bad part in our hotel- this hasn't been a negative thing. This is a good thing. Y-you and me."

"I hoped you would think so. I do." He rolled and she scooted up, face to face, even. A kiss goodnight, or a kiss to start something that would keep them from sleep?

"D-do you have favorite things? In bed, I mean." She asked as their lips parted after a short burst of togetherness.

"Not as such. That I can think of. You?"

"Uh- not th-that I can think of."

So they thought, silence descending on them as they lay still, connected, limbs over limbs, forehead an inch from forehead.

What had he liked? The rough, heady tumble and variety, and the demon's energy giving him more endurance and stamina than any man should have, partnering with different bodies in different ways- and then- nothing. A bad hangover that left him craving the next "drink" from Eyghon's well.

Liked Olivia. A sexual athlete, a comfortable old friend. Affectionate, easy, enjoyable. Empty at the end, a laugh and wave goodbye, nothing that stuck around or stuck with him after. Again, a sensation of having had something he enjoyed, eager for the next bout, and like Eyghon, eventually finding out one more dose wouldn't arrive.

"I like you." He told her with unthinking honesty, abruptly clear on the point.

"Well, I know we like-

"No, I mean as a favorite. I enjoy the fact that with you, intimacy is fulfilling. I don't feel empty later. I don't - I don't feel frustration in between the moments we're together, because I have faith that our friendship, our bond, is lasting. And… I like that you touch." He lifted her hand, kissed the wrist, the knuckles, the thumb, before letting it fall back to her side. "Your touches mean something to me. They're given lovingly and genuinely. You don't only do it as a sexual gesture." _My favorite thing is receiving her love in tangible and intangible ways, all combined into one act._

Tara's eyes blinked rapidly, slightly moist. "I w-wish I could speak like you."

He harrumphed again and fought down the tongue-tied feeling forming. "I only do it when I feel pushed to it. I must've felt a great need to let you know."

Tara nodded, burrowed farther into the warmth of him, and then bit her lip. "My favorite was Willow."

"I know, Darling, as it should have been. Should be." He stroked her hair.

"But I like the way you hold onto me. Willow was- she was graceful. Strong. But small. She loved when I would hold her. She said I was her curvy pillow." They grinned.

"I agree with that assessment."

"It's different, being the pillow-ee, instead of the pillow. But it's nice."

"I'm hardly so comfy. Although," he considered his midsection, "perhaps I'm headed that way."

"Nope. Not a soft pillow. M-maybe I like firm support." Tara suddenly wrinkled her nose, a bemused smile on her face. "I'm making you sound like a mattress."

"Then we're a set. Mattress and pillow."

"You're also the pillow."

"We're talking nonsense. Sweet nonsense, of course, but I don't think we've found much to answer an impertinent, highly personal interviewer. Who, in all likelihood, will probably only ask us mildly personal questions."

"Hmm. I know. I like the way you hold me. You like the way I touch you." Her smile dropped, something serious but not sad in the set of her lips. "Where?"

His voice came out much more raspy, constricted, than he would have liked. "Everywhere."

"It's been a busy week." Her hand moved to his chest.

"Very. Oh. Happy two week anniversary. Although, technically that was yesterday."

"Thank you." _So it's been two weeks. Two weeks that seems more like two years. Wow._ A wave of exhaustion hit her. _Two weeks I went from feeling like a lost widow living in someone else's house, someone else's life, to being a bride and feeling like I'm make a home. A home where I'm comfortable, and I know it's not just mine, not new, but I feel like… like he wants me here and I belong here. Belong here for good reasons, not sad ones, like losing Willow. Finding Giles. I'll never lose Willow. _She hugged her husband tightly suddenly, head thudding into his Adam's apple, making him emit a gulping sound. "Sorry!"

"No matter." He coughed. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Something feels right. G-good two weeks."

"Started off very poorly, I'm afraid." He remembered the flight out to Boston. Beginning his sham of a marriage, a fake honeymoon, the bitterness and loneliness inside him, the worry that he would fail to please her. Not physically, there would never be physicality, but fail in creating even an image of happy wedlock. He'd failed at everything true, something "in name only" would surely falter and collapse.

His hug was crushing but short, letting her go almost at once for fear he would hurt her. "I was so sure it would be difficult for you. That I couldn't be lived with."

_That he couldn't be loved. Well, I didn't know I would love him in this way._ "I love you. I l-love living here." Tara reassured, reaching for him, bringing him back to that ferocious embrace. She kept the momentum between them going this time, leaning into him, and even though he was a little more aggressive than she'd experienced with him before, she wasn't afraid. Her heart fluttered. Her insides did a spasm of excitement, not fear.

"It's late…" He offered her a gracious out.

"But not too late."

His kisses had a furious edge, a passionate, powerful urgency that he kept trying to slow, pulling back, taking even breaths.

She wouldn't let him, darting up to catch his mouth when he pulled away, helping his hands on her clothes, on his, until two naked, panting figures rutted against each other.

Giles gave her a worried glance, a questioning glance, trying to look above the storm of want before sinking back into it.

"It's good. We c- we c-can try."_ I want him to have what he wants. I want to be full of him. It didn't hurt last time, and sometimes he slips in, just a little, just for a second. The only time it hurt was when I tried too much at once, in the wrong position. It'll be better next time. _She tried to tell her body, and it seemed to listen, no warning stings inside this time.

"Try later." He nodded. _Too hard to think just now. Must always think of her_. "I do love you. I would love to."

"Mmm- mmmmm." A sound of pleasure that broke, then climbed as his fingers went in easily. Her tunnel instantly spasmed, gripping, grasping.

Giles tried not to imagine that sensation on his cock. It was a losing battle. he reached down and gripped hard, stroking quickly, trying to take the edge off.

"Let me." She insisted.

"You don't need to."

"Silly. I want to."

"Ahhh. Want_ you_." He groaned, words seeming torn out of him, some sort of confession.

"Rupert. You have me. Don't sound so tortured. I have you, too." Tara reminded him, before sliding atop of him. "Th-that's right, isn't it?" Turning shy at the last moment, wanting to hear words she knew he would say easily.

"Absolutely."

She smiled and began using her body to finish what their hands had started.

* * *

_Revelations_

"They sent you something? That was quick!" Buffy's cry of glee rang out over the sounds of scuffle.

"Not when you consider I requested a change of status in mid-August. In which case it's a month. Hm, I suppose it was quick, considering who we're dealing with."

"I know, I was going to go with 'Finally!', Buff." Xander ducked a blow. "Also, is this the best time to- ow!- talk about this stuff?" He wasn't so fortunate the second time and ended up on the floor, head leaving a nice imprint in the cheap siding of a rather run down looking house.

"I feel like we've all been pretty busy- hey! Do you see I'm talking to someone here? Don't sneak off!" Buffy tackled a retreating vampire to the ground.

"First nest of the season." Spike gave a contented sigh through a wave of ash as he joined them. "None left inside. Did I miss anything?"

"Giles got a letter from the immigration people and I got a concussion." Xander moaned from the ground.

"Well done. An' sorry." Spike addressed one, then the other. "What'd they say? Champagne time?"

"Hardly." Giles brushed himself down, trying not to wince. "They requested some further documents, then they contact us again. We sent the documents off today, so we should hear something in two to four weeks to schedule the first interview."

"But- by the time they actually get to you, that could put you in November. And your renewal process was supposed to be done by November, right?"

"That is the one bright spot. While they're in the approval process, my visa is 'indefinitely extended' based on new information, status change, etc." Giles helped Xander up and Buffy slid under the young man's other arm.

"That's better than nothing." Spike brought up the rear, sharp eyes still searching for stragglers from the nest they'd taken out. "We gonna go check out that place? Double Meat?"

"Uh- man down." Xander reminded them, stumbling and blinking as he tried to rub his head.

"In my wide experience, you need ice, nonaspirin pain killers, rest in a dark room, and someone to keep an eye on you."

"The awesome benefits of having a wife. Aside from the sex." Xander smiled and then rubbed his head again, feeling the lump forming. "If anyone would know, you would, G-Man."

"I- no! I- Tara and I-"

"He means if anyone knows about how to treat a concussion, it would be you." Buffy rolled her eyes at Xander. "Don't be gross."

"He said it, not me. Even if I did, my brain is bruised, so easy on the glare-age."

Spike said nothing, he sniffed sharply and gave the Watcher a startled glance. There was a sudden stink of guilt and fear, the heart sped up, nothing to do with the fact that they'd just battled a half dozen vampires. A whole different type of adrenaline than the one Spike knew came from fighting.

"What is it?" Buffy shot an anxious glance at him.

"Oh, _head injuries_! Yes! So many of them." Giles babbled.

"Spike! What is it?"

"Nothing, Slayer!"

"Can we not shout?" Xander pleaded.

"I'll take you home to Anya." Giles soothed. "Would you like Dawn to spend the night, Buffy? Or I can give Tara a call from Xander's flat and ask her to drop her off."

"I'll pick her up." Spike offered quickly.

"It's late. Let her stay. She misses having Tara just down the hall."

* * *

"Dawnie, it's_ so_ late. You have to go get some sleep, school or no school tomorrow." Tara pulled the bowl of popcorn away from the teen.

"I missed 'slumber parties' with you. Can Janice come with me one night?"

"Janice's parents probably won't let her stay over here, at some stranger's house. B-but I can sleep over at your place some time when she's invited." Tara offered.

"I miss you being there, at home."

"It's nice to have my own place again, though." Tara rose. "C'mon, bedtime."

"But where will you sleep?" Dawn protested as Tara motioned her down the hall towards the small bedroom on the ground floor.

"Oh- upstairs." Tara answered, not looking at her friend.

"That's Giles' room."

"We- share sometimes."_ All the time. But we have the agreement in place that it can be only sometimes._

Dawn froze in midstep. "You do?"

"Sure." Tara kept her voice easy.

"Isn't that… kind of weird?"

"How many times have we shared a bed, Dawnie?" Tara laughed gently, still not looking at her.

Dawn slowly began walking again. That was true. Tons of times, before and after Willow's death. On couches, on beds, floors, sound asleep, feeling better because Tara was close by, a sibling-like, almost maternal connection and comfort. "Yeah. I guess." Dawn tentatively said. "I can't picture that happening with Giles, though."

Tara looked at her now, her stare hard but not mean. "Why?"

"I don't know." The teen shrugged truthfully. "He always kind of separated himself from the group sleepovers. Like, it's not weird to see everyone sprawled out asleep, boys next to girls, whatever."

"Usually however we crash." Tara smiled, but her eyes still held a steady gaze. "Isn't Giles just as much a friend? Part of the gang?"

"But Giles is always up in a chair, bent over a book, or just not there at the Scooby crash fest. I think we want him to be just as much part of the gang, he's totally the definition of friend- but he likes his space, too." Dawn yawned. "Sorry. You have to admit, he's not very touchy-feely."

_Because he wants to be strong. He doesn't want to pull anyone in, afraid to let people get close, see that he's really not as invulnerable as they think he is._ "M-maybe not. But he's a very caring person. You know that."

"I do!" Dawn nodded vehemently. "I just never pictured him as cuddly. Wait- is there cuddling?"

Tara hesitated. Hot, feverish kisses, long slow ones, tight hugs, comforting ones, a hand on her back, on his, shuddering into one another as they took the pain away… "There's something like cuddling."

"I don't know whether to think that's cool, or kind of odd." Dawn bit her lip.

"It's cool. It's good. It can be odd, too. Being strange doesn't mean being bad, right?"

"Totally right." She agreed after quick reflection.

"You can keep some of your stuff in here, if you want." Tara changed the subject, showing the half empty closet, turning down the crisply made bed that hadn't been used once, not in weeks. A less sleepy, more observant person might've noticed, but Dawn just nodded.

"I can bring some stuff to keep. I need floss. I have a popcorn thingy wedged in between two teeth and it's making me crazy."

Tara laughed. "Floss is on the bathroom sink. Night, Sweetie." She hugged her friend and stroked the long brown hair back affectionately. "Shout if you need me."

* * *

"I'm sorry to be back so late. Did I wake you, or were you up?" Giles whispered as he entered the flat.

"I was waiting- then sleeping." Tara replied, sitting up on the couch, putting a finger to her lips. "Dawn's asleep."

"Buffy's fine with her staying over." He lightly kissed her cheek. "Let me make up a bed down here." He gestured to the sofa she'd just vacated.

"No." Tara shook her head.

"Dawn?" He queried, but put down his jacket and bag of weaponry and notes and began to follow her up the stairs.

"I told her. We share."

"We share." He repeated slowly, mulling this definition.

"There's cuddling- some kind of cuddling. I can't lie to her. But it's no one's business if we do more, or less."

"I could use some sort of cuddling." Giles admitted, painfully stretching as they reached their bedside. "I got thrown down more times than I'd like, and Xander got a nasty blow to the head. Not hospital worthy, but he'll be feeling it for a week."

"Did you find out anything about the fast food place?"

"Not yet. On the way over we encountered two vampires, Buffy killed one, and the other ran. We followed it back and found a nest just off campus in a house recently vacated."

"A nest? How many?"

"Eight or nine, I think. May have been more. Spike was there. He makes short, messy work of whatever he finds." They shared a quiet, knowing laugh. Giles hesitated, hands on the buttons of his shirt. "Is she truly asleep?"

"I think so. Been quiet for about an hour." Tara licked her lips and swallowed. This was new. They hadn't done this yet. Not exactly.

Giles' fingers seemed clumsy. He tried twice before he found the steady rhythm of push and pop to undo the buttons, and he was moving much more slowly than usual.

Tara watched him, transfixed, before turning away, blushing. _Seen everything. Not in the full lighting, and never watched him undress. We come in half dressed, pass half dressed, in robes, towels. In bed we take off clothes, but it's part of the lovemaking. _

_ No need to be shy. _He turned his back anyway. Paused when he heard the rustle of fabric. Risked a quick glance in time to see one of her flowing tops rising above her shoulders, revealing the back of a white lace bra. Heart thumping extra hard, he turned back before she could catch him looking. _This is ridiculous. We are mature adults. _Married, _mature adults. No possible reason the necessary act of disrobing should cause such… emotion._

Tara hesitated before deciding to remove the last of her clothes and cross to the dresser to grab sweats and a tank top. _I could have grabbed those first. Why didn't I think of that- oh boy._ She felt him next to her. Realized his good "company" pajamas were folded in a drawer above hers. "H-here." She opened the drawer for him, passed them back.

"Thank you." His arm pressed her shoulder quickly, retrieving them.

Skin to skin contact making them both jump like inexperienced, eager lovers. "I'm sorry." Giles apologized when he felt her twitch. He'd twitched as well, but figured she couldn't tell that from behind.

Never underestimate a quiet, observant woman. "M-me, too. Sorry, I mean." She fumbled for her clothes and slid her tank top on hurriedly. "Not that I'm sorry you t-touched me, sorry I m-made you jump."

"I don't know what's wrong with me." He hissed, trousers on, top rapidly pulled up one arm then the other, left unbuttoned.

"I know! I mean, again, not you, me." She bent, rear colliding with his hip as she stepped into faded sweatpants.

"Oh God." He gave up and stepped back, waiting for her to finish and face him. She did, tucking her long hair behind one ear as she did in a gesture he found so innocent yet alluring. "I'm turning into a depraved old man." He whispered, reaching for her hand.

She gave his a squeeze. "I don't think it's 'depraved' to feel- um- however you feel."

"I've been through too many things to feel shy or nervous- especially with such a good friend." He said, bending to kiss her cheek.

"But I felt that way, too. Also, those aren't words I associate with depraved." She smiled up at him.

"Hrm. What about aroused just at the sight of my- wife?" He coughed gently before the last syllable, the unfamiliar word tripping across his tongue.

"That's sweet. Not depraved. You better be nicer to my h-husband." She struggled over the new word as well, and giggled when he suddenly stooped, picked her up in a brief little whirl of a hug. "I like seeing you this happy."

"I like being this happy. I don't know what came over me just then. I suppose it must've been happiness." _Happiness to find someone else as nervous as I about these uncharted waters, and still bravely, blithely wading in, as long as we wade in together._

"Good." Tara slid to the bed and curled up on top of the sheets, looking at him with affection in her eyes. "Cuddles were what the doctor ordered, right?"

"Well, now that I've got something I can bump into Dawn in- and change back into without defeating the purpose, I'd best go wash the grit off of me. I'll be just a moment."

"If we ever move, can we get one of those places that has the little bathroom attached to the master bedroom?"

"And a bedroom with a door." He smiled ruefully. "Are you… would you like to start looking for a new flat? Or- or a house?"

"N-not right away, but… we could." She shrugged.

"We'll do that, then. Be right back."

He took a quick shower, in a hurry to return to her, and to avoid their houseguest. Truthfully, he expected to find her asleep, and tried to tell himself it wouldn't be disappointing. He should have no reason to grin like a fool when she sat up at his approach and whispered "Hi." Yet he did.

"Ohhh, sleep. Or at the very least, lying down." He groaned in relief as he joined her.

She laughed softly. "Are you patrolling tomorrow?"

He shifted painfully. "It'll be too difficult with the rain. We've found some horrific smelling slime in back of the place, and I imagine the rain will wash it away, make tracking impossible."

"Is it supposed to rain?" Tara frowned.

"The weatherman may not have said so, but it will. Hard." Another shift.

She was about to ask how he could tell, but as she prepared to speak, she watched him try to turn onto his back, wince, and quickly roll back to his side.

_His scars hurt before it rains. Like people with healed broken bones, or trick joints._ "All of them?" She asked.

Masterfully intelligent, just not outspoken about it, Giles realized with a pained smile. "No. Only the few that should have had stitches and didn't. Something about barometric pressure, I imagine. They twinge a bit when it's cold, too. Properly cold, not Californian cold. It's a blessing, really, that I live where it's mostly warm and sunny."

_He hides it. Goes on bravely, not telling anyone- and none of us noticed._ "How long have you had the ones that hurt?"

"Let's see." He pretended to think, but really it was the act of blotting out thoughts that caused him silence. Angelus did most of them. A few from various other battles, but the biggest, the ugliest ones that were filled with painful scar tissue, those were Angelus' handiwork. "Three years or so."

"I'm sorry." Her hands slid to his arm and shoulder, pulling herself closer with gentle pressure. "Did you ever try to- to get them fixed? Can a doctor help?"

"Right after it happened, Buffy disappeared. I spent the entire summer hunting for her, not much concerned about them. I didn't realize how bad it was, that they weren't healing. May even have been infected, I don't- hm, I don't know. I couldn't really reach most of them to treat them, and I didn't think to ask anyone…Then when she returned we had rather a busy time and then- I lost my job as her Watcher. The physical pain dulled in comparison. Then there was Wesley- the mental pain he caused…" he trailed off with a chuckle. "I'm sure a plastic surgeon could do something. At least for the appearance."

"Or a wicca. For the pain, maybe not the actual scars. Do you think you'll be staying in tomorrow night?"

"We can plan on it. I'm sure the others may offer to get together, but we can pass if you'd like."

"Yes. Let's stay home."

What a beautiful, peaceful thought. "I feel better already." Giles murmured, lids suddenly heavy.

"Me, too." She turned so that she tucked into his side, layering them together. "Good night, Rupert." He kissed her ear with a fond sigh. "Love you."

"Ah, my love." He drowsily nuzzled her shoulder and sank into sleep.

* * *

"I'll come with you to the store."

"But you have a paper to finish."

"And I have stuff I need for tonight."

"Is it my turn to cook or yours? Hold on a moment, what store were you talking about, the shop or the market?"

"I think it's yours, and I meant the shop, but I can mean both."

"Hm. Lamb chops?"

Her face saddened. "Giles! No! Cute little baby lambs?"

"All right, noted. Tara does not eat lamb. Not shrimp. Allergies and conscience not permitting. Pork chops?"

"Fine."

"So the lamb is too adorable, but not the pig?"

"You'd better stop unless you want us to start eating only vegetarian." Tara bopped him lightly on the shoulder as she sat up.

"Well, I- Dawn?" A tiny, girlish giggle had interrupted his rejoinder.

"I'm up! And just saying- you guys are _adorable._" A voice called from downstairs.

Giles groaned. "Get dressed! I'm taking you home!"

"Tara promised me pancakes first."

"I did." Tara confirmed. "Sunday morning pancakes. It's traditional."

"And we're suddenly traditional?" He groused, but didn't really mind in the least.

"At least for breakfast." She impulsively kissed his cheek and sprang out of bed, heading down.

* * *

"This is nice." Buffy lazily rolled over, hand trailing down Spike's chest.

"What is?"

"We have the house to ourselves. Dawn's someplace else. For a little bit longer."

"Mmm. Morning exercises, Slayer?" He chuckled a dark, liquid laugh that made her want to devour him.

"That was the plan." She purred back.

It was after they were finished- finished loudly- that he was reminded of something that happened the night before. "I'm sooo glad Dawn wasn't here for that!" Buffy gave a deep sigh.

"But the neighbors probably enjoyed listenin' to the show." Spike smirked.

And he smelled the scent. A sudden wave of adrenaline, a little bit of fear. Hers was faded and disappeared before he could get a second whiff. "Giles all right with Dawn sleeping over?" He asked as casually as he could manage.

"You were there." Buffy reminded him pointedly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I was…" Spike frowned, trailed off, musing on something silently.

"Are you going to shower with me or not?" Buffy demanded. "You know that's another thing we can't do when Dawn's here- well, not in the mornings anyway. Or when she's awake."

"Hrm- what? Why?"

"Dawn! Scarred for life by the thought of us having loud wet sex in the shower where _she _then gets in and washes her hair and uses all the hot water?"

"Bit's a teenager. Knows we have sex. Still talks to us like normal, or at least _semi_-normal people."

"I know- but it's not like it's super obvious. Aside from the room sharing. Okay, it's super obvious! I don't care, I just don't… I don't want things to be any weirder than they already are." She nervously plucked at her hair.

"She spent the night with the two of them last night- Librarian and Lady Witch." He licked his lips hesitantly. Buffy probably wouldn't want to hear his suspicions. Wouldn't believe them. Should let her find out on her own.

"Yeah, so?" She turned, headed to the shower without him, knowing he would join her.

He padded after her, speaking outside the shower curtain as she stepped in ahead of him. "That's a strange setup, that's all."

"Well, yeah, but it's not like - like this." She opened the curtain and gestured between them.

All thoughts fled unless they were directly related to this girl, this girl who maybe loved him. "Love you, Slayer. God, what you can do to me…"

She giggled and slid back, making room for him to enter. "Mm, I like what you do to me, too."

* * *

"It's not stranger than our deal. Not really. Lots of people have marriages where they don't do crazy hot passion, or sex, or other stuff. Right?" After the shower and what went along with it was concluded, Buffy returned to the subject abruptly.

"Right. When they've been together for yonks and they're old and gray." Spike tossed his towel into the hamper.

"They seem older. Giles is. Tara seems like she is, too." Buffy mused.

"Watcher's younger than he seems, and she's aged a lot in a little time." Spike said knowingly.

"If you're getting at something, you should just tell me."

_Because you'd never see it until it was shoved in your face, Slayer._ "Plenty of fire left in them both, fire of a sort. Wouldn't be surprised if they let someone- someone they trust- put out the flames a little."

She stared. Frowned. Then her jaw dropped before snapping into a scowl. "You've got to be kidding me! With all the life and death 'fires' around here, you think they're… they're… _doing stuff_?"

"Far-fetched, init?"

"Yes! Like cosmically far-fetched. Over in the next galaxy!"

"I'd agree with you if you said they were suddenly at it like rabbits, she'd started to drive in the other lane, and he'd turned into some weak sap who was trying to get back his virility by doing anything half his age- but it's not like that. It's like… I dunno, Buffy. Just got it in my gut that they might give a little comfort sometimes. Might need it."

"Then they'll stick to cookies and tea." Buffy angrily shoved on her clothes. "If they need a little comforting, I'm pretty sure those two can do it without - ew. Without what you said."

"I know they can keep it strictly platonic, Luv." _Just thinking that they might have decided not to. A little hug, a little back rub, a little sympathy, a little smooch- and then- two lonely people who tried it on._ He remembered the way blood pumped through Giles' veins, carrying with it something he couldn't place.

"I'm _sure_ it's platonic. I mean- not that you couldn't be right, Spike," she conceded with a sigh, "but I'm pretty sure they have other stuff on their minds."

* * *

"Can you put these on my account?" Tara placed several things quickly in front of Anya.

"I merged your accounts, yours and Giles. _Personal_ accounts, not his professional one, because that contains all dealer stock." Anya busily pushed buttons on the register.

"Uh… Thanks. Good thinking."

"Hislop bark, bay root, aloe base, tamarind oil- what are you trying to heal?"

Tara knocked over a stack of store business cards. "H-heal?"

"Either that or you're making the worst perfume ever." Anya pushed the bay root into the bag hurriedly.

"Just going to make some to keep on hand. Healing lotion." _More of a paste, really, or a balm._ "And if you add vanilla and lavender it smells really good. Soothing."

"Do you need the lavender?"

"I have some."

"Practice saying 'we'. _We _have some. _We_ always keep some healing lotion in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. _We_ just renewed the fire and flood insurance on the store. Which, by the way, is the store going in your name too? Not my percentage, obviously, just the part Giles owns. Including the lease, he is the official lease holder, I'm only getting a percentage of profits and liquid assets. Which considering he made the full initial investment, is fair."

Tara blinked. "I don't know. _We_ have to talk about it."

"Good job!" Anya praised. "But seriously, find out about your name on the lease and the holdings and stuff. If you can sign stuff, I won't have to bug Giles as much."

"I promise, I'll find out." Tara smiled.

"Where is he, anyway?"

"He dropped me off and went to the store."

"We're_ at_ the store."

"He went to get the groceries." She said patiently.

* * *

"Pork chops- oh, I didn't find out if she likes bone in, or boneless. Thin cut, center cut, stuffed…" Giles muttered as he stopped in front of the meat case. He found he was taking an unusually long time over half the items on the list- to be exact, anything he hadn't heard Tara mention, hadn't quizzed her on.

Items on the list meant for tonight's dinner were the worst. _Because before we took turns if we could- it's been a few times in this few weeks, not more, but it was also simple chance that found us home in time for a meal. This is… planned. This is like a date._

_ But we__'ve been on dates. We went to dinner, we went on a picnic, we went to the cinema. _

_ As friends creating a backstory, we went on dates. I__'ve never cooked a quiet dinner for two for my _wife_ before, where we will spend a cozy evening at home, avoiding the rain. _He winced as he finally reached for some center cut chops, not too fat or thin. _Rain which will soon come, down in torrents, maybe even a thunderstorm, if my back is any judge. _

_ And then, after dinner, or perhaps before, she__'s going to try something for the pain. _

He had vivid and bittersweet, then entirely sweet recollections of how they'd removed pain in the past.

_I don't want to put pressure on her, or the evening. I just want everything to be perfectly wonderful for her. She deserves it. My friend, now wife, whom I love dearly, who knows my secrets, and has so many burdens of her own, yet always helps others carry theirs. _

Something he could relate to. And things, even the most difficult of things, seemed to work out with minimal discomfort for them.

_ I__'m making far too much of this. Still… a bottle of wine with dinner would be a nice addition_…

* * *

"Dawnie! Dinner." Buffy gently shook her sister's shoulder.

"huh? Dinner? Good, I'm starved!"

"I know, you should be, you slept through lunch! Did you even eat anything since breakfast?" Buffy gave her sister a concerned stare as she slowly scooted off the couch where she'd been napping for half the day.

"No, but that's okay. Tara made so many pancakes this morning. I think I had a syrup coma."

"That or you stayed up way, way too late talkin' with Tara, and then you crashed." Spike slid a plate in front of her as she sat down. "Eat up. It was my turn to cook, you're safe." He winked.

"Hey!" Buffy cried and pretended to swat at him.

"You guys are adorable, too." Dawn giggled sleepily, reaching for her glass. "Just a little more violent than Giles and Tara, but I guess that figures. Vampire and Slayer, vs. Watcher and Wicca. Ooh, hey, doesn't that sound like awesome wrestling tag teams?"

"She's been hanging out with Xander too much. She's thinking in wrestling terms." Buffy groaned.

"Don't look at me, I'm not the one that made up the sittin' arrangements."

"Tara said I can keep stuff in the guest room there. Maybe we can look at the schedule again? It doesn't seem like I'm bothering them too much if they want me to have my own room." Dawn almost seemed to glow. _I'm cool enough that Tara likes to hang out with me. Friends like Willow and Buffy are- were- friends._ A spasm of sudden sadness passed across her face, and she tried to hide with another chipper volley, "Oh, yeah, and she said if Janice comes over to spend the night here, she'll come, too. 'Cause I wanted Janice to spend the night there sometime, and Tara was like, 'no, because I'm a stranger to Janice's parents and they'd never let her'. But she offered to come here, and so can I?"

Buffy blinked, food halfway to her mouth. Spike squinted at her.

"I swear, she's not full human. Humans need to breathe more often than that."

"Freak." Dawn knew he was teasing and stuck her tongue out at him as she teased back.

"Can you what? Have a sleepover with Janice and Tara here? Yeah, maybe, once school is a little farther along. Or can you stay at Giles' more often? Yes to that too, if he says it's okay. He made a point about telling me they need time alone, have to make it look like they're in a real marriage."

"They act like it. I could hear them talking in bed this morning- not like I was eavesdropping, just his room doesn't have a door since it's like a loft- duh- you know that- and so I was hearing them talk about who was going to make dinner and they were trying to figure out who would do what today and what he'd make since it was his turn to cook, and they were so _cute._"

"Must have gills on her someplace." Spike told his plate as the teen managed another long string of words with barely a pause.

"I'm glad they're so cute, but you see what I mean. They _are _trying to make it look real. Or- it is real. The good relationship and the adorable-ness, cooking, schedules, domestic joy." Buffy nodded. She chewed and swallowed. "You can talk to them about upping your Tara time. But not tonight, it's one of their nights 'together' now. We can't track in this rain." Buffy frowned.

"Okay, I can wait. I need to figure out what stuff I want over there." Dawn nodded.

"Aren't you puttin' Tara out of her own room if you sleep there?" Spike asked suddenly. "Not that she doesn't love you an' all, Niblet, and not that you'd be selfish enough to take advantage of a kind offer, but maybe-"

He was cut off by a frantic "Nn-nn," as Dawn finished a bite. "I totally asked about that, and it's cool, 'cause they share."

"Share with Tara?" Buffy clarified.

"No, she and Giles. Share his room." Dawn explained. "And not like I would keep a lot of stuff, or even spend the whole night all the time. But this way I could have things there when I do."

"Back up. I'm stuck on- on the other part. Giles and Tara- share his room?" Buffy put her fork down slowly.

"Called it." Spike mumbled, hiding it in a sip from his mug.

"Yeah, that was unexpected. But apparently Giles is more cuddly around her. Or in private. Something, 'cause she said sometimes they share, and I said something about it being hard to picture them cuddling up- then I asked if there was cuddling, and she said it was sort of cuddling. Y'know, Giles is a very warm person. He's just so busy being responsible all the time, I think he tries to fake being Mr. Stern and Big-Words. When we're not around, I bet he's more relaxed."

"She did catch him singin' the Doors at a club one night." Spike pointed out.

"And the earring. He's holding out on us with the cool, cuddling side."

"They share his room?" Buffy repeated.

"Yes! Why are we still on that?" Dawn tossed her hair.

"I think you snapped her brain. It wasn't over strong to begin with." Spike was only jabbing at his lover, as they often did, banter being one of the few aspects of their old adversarial relationship they'd kept. In reality, he was a little concerned. "Not so unlikely, is it, Slayer? Think about it, two people left alone in a place during a rough period in their lives. Of course they're going to-"

"Spike!" Buffy barked, eyes darting protectively at Dawn.

"I was gonna say 'reach out for each other.' Bloody hell, Buffy, I'm not stupid."

"I don't know if that's completely accurate." She sniped back.

"It's okay, Buffy. They're - they're happy together. They can lean on each other a little, right?" Dawn looked worried, like her sister might object, her surprise turning negative.

"Fine with the leaning, thrilled with the happy. Totally did not expect the room sharing thing. Or the 'cuddling'."

Dawn smiled. "I think I remember you falling asleep next to him on the couch once. He put his arm around you and patted your head."

"I remember that." She said slowly. "Didn't happen much." _Because I used to sit next to Angel. Or Riley. Now Spike. I snuggle up to him when I'm tired. Sometimes I was the center of a Willow-Xander sleep sandwich. But we paired off, and then it's like you want to sit next to your boyfriend, or girlfriend. And he's never had that. Not for long. That Olivia bitch left him, after she gave me creepy visual images… And Ms. Calendar…_

"Luv? Worryin' us, here." Spike gently prompted her after she'd been silent for a minute.

"Huh? Oh. Sorry, no, I was just thinking, Giles must be seriously low in the human touch bank."

"I was thinking that too." Dawn gave a commiserating nod.

"I think it's bloody weird that you use terms like 'human touch bank'. But I agree. Watcher plays it close to the vest, keeps himself to himself."

"He could use someone to curl up with. We need to do better."

"We hug! We hug him a lot more than we ever did, and he makes strained little sounds and then hugs us back. I don't think he's ever going to be touchy-feely, Buffy, and we'd be freaked if he was."

"This is something Tara can give him. She's feelin' alone herself." Spike said softly.

Buffy agreed with a thoughtful nod. She pictured the two of them alone, two quiet people, who needed that quiet right now, and needed each other. Just some peace to get better, or to keep going, and someone to complete a picture. "I hope they have a nice, peaceful night in." She smiled tremulously at her family.

* * *

"Music with dinner? I've got records over there." He gestured. "And you know where the stereo is. Do you have CDs you want to put out?"

"I have a couple. Let me look at the records."

"I don't even know your favorite band. Or musical artist." He poured the wine and untucked the tea towel from the front of his jeans where it had served as a hurried apron.

"My father wouldn't let us listen to music in the house." Tara shrugged. "I'm still finding out myself. I mean, I love all kinds of music. I love classical. I love rock. I love everything, really, I'm just still trying to find a favorite."

"Hm. Tried much opera?" He moved over to the records. Mixed in with David Bowie was Madame Butterfly, and Led Zeppelin nestled next to La Boheme.

"Here. Put these on. It holds more than one, right?" She grinned and handed him two records. "La Boheme and … Atlantic?"

"That's the name of the company. It was a single, promotional given out." He smiled as he took it from her. "Actually this- hrm- this one reminds me of you. _Stairway to Heaven_. I'm sure you've heard it."

"I have. Not memorized it or anything." She blushed. "W-why does it make you think of me?"

"It's beautiful and and at first- there are no words. But the longer the song goes, the more it builds, the tempo, the volume. It's a very long track as well. It keeps going, and the complexity of the music and the stamina of the piece, keep you eager to listen, you never feel like you're in a hurry for it to end. It surprises you with its power. Just like you." He was tempted to lean forward and kiss her then, as she looked up at him, eyes sparkling.

"Thank you." _Wow. Breathless. Good breathless. Surprised breathless. _"When did you think of all that?"

"Now." He admitted easily. "I never thought of it before I saw you with the record, but then when I did, it suited you."

"That's like you."

"What is?"

"W-well, I never thought before… I mean, you and I. We're suitable together. B-but no one would ever think that unless they got to see us together."

His heart gave an extra heavy thud it seemed, one of happiness landing squarely, digging in deeply. "I'm glad you think so. Wine?"

"Mm- just a little. I need to make something after dinner is done and the dishes are out of the way. Want to h-help?"

"I'll wash, you dry?"

"With the balm I'm making. I need a mortar and pestle." She laughed as he slid the records on the spindle, and headed for the table, more cluttered than it had been, with a space carved out amidst papers and books for their meal. "Actually, I need a couple, so if we both work…"

"It'll go faster."

"And you can feel better sooner." She smiled, though he stiffened. "Oh. Oh, maybe that's a b-bad plan?"_ He hurts the worst when it rains. Probably not the best time to go poking around at the sore spots._ "We can make it for another day. It keeps for a really long time."

"No, please. I would be glad if you could- do something. Advil and aspirin really haven't done much."

"I hope I can make you feel better."

"You already do." He held out her chair for her, and she smiled with downcast eyes as she sat.

* * *

During dinner they talked about the banalities of life, the things they needed to remember to put on the grocery list for next time, the paperwork matters that consume all newlyweds, the questions Anya asked, and of course, the music.

"I think opera is like junk food. It's really good- but I can only eat it a couple times a week." Tara said thoughtfully.

"I'd compare it to port. It's too rich for everyday listening?"

"At least this one is. It's- sad. I don't really know what she's saying, but I get that she'd be crying if she wasn't singing."

"She's dying of consumption in a street garret in France." Giles explained. "And her unselfish lover, because he is so poor, has tried to get her to leave him and find a wealthier lover who can take care of her. She tried to go along with it, but she never- hrm- never stopped loving him, and now she's returned. Drying."

"But she gets to tell him before she…?"

"She does."

They ate in silence. "You're like that guy. You'd try to push people away so they could be happier."

He couldn't deny it. "Noble intentions, perhaps?"

"You said if I was unhappy, you hoped I would leave. But if I was happy, you hoped I'd stay." She brought up a conversation they had while in Boston.

"Of course." _What sort of monster would I be, asking her to remain while miserable?_

"You never said what you wanted until I pushed." She had been looking at her glass as if it fascinated her, and now gave him the same studied look. "You're very unselfish. I know you said you don't think so, but you are."

"Well, if we're comparing, Mimi reminds me of you. The girl who's dying. She'd rather have love than have health or wealth. She really dwelt on a more spiritual plane."

Tara flushed, and nodded. "So, are we going to compare each other to every song we hear?"

"Possibly." He smiled. "Or it could be that everything seems to remind me of you, lately." He frowned suddenly. _That sounds rather like I'm falling in love. I don't want to fall in love! It's not an allowable option. That wasn't part of the plan, nor is it fair, nor can it be reciprocated. _

"What's wrong?" Tara watched the stricken look cross his face, saw him try to conceal it and fail.

"No- nothing, just thoughts."

"Bad thoughts, I guess."

_Very harmful ones. _

"Rupert, you can tell me."

It was the first time she'd called him that before their intimate actions began. Just another proof that they were closer, and that he should preserve himself from such foolish feelings, if that is even in fact what they were.

"Please?" Tara was starting to get upset herself. "Did I do s-something?"

"No! No, never." He denied instantly, breaking his silence.

"Is- is it a bad thought -about me?"

"More like a misplaced one." He sighed. "I don't want to alarm you."

"Oh my God. Does your left arm hurt?" Tara rose so quickly she sent her now empty glass careening across her plate.

He had to laugh, it burst out as he shook his head. "Not a bit. Although I'm glad you've finally realized my middle aged-ness."

"You were just acting weird!" Tara sank back down, a half-glare darting at him. "I can't think what else you want to say that would alarm me. Unless… no. I don't think you would do that."

"Do what?"

"The only bad thing I can think of you saying to me is that you're not happy and you do w-want to end this."

He wanted to reach out and cup her beautiful, worried faced. Instead he pushed one hand through his hair and looked away. "What if I said I worry that I'm falling in love or my feelings are becoming stronger, and I don't know what it means?" He looked back up, jaw set. "I don't… I _know_ we are not in love."

"I… I'm not falling in love." She whispered, shaking her head vehemently.

"I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. It was an impulse, I'm- I'm sorry." He grabbed his plate hurriedly, intent on heading to the kitchen, away from her stunned expression, to be alone with his self-berating.

"I'm thinking that- that maybe you can love in different ways. And all those ways are really ways to be 'in love' aren't they? And maybe with more than one person, as long as you don't have them overlap." Tara followed him, speaking rapidly, voice tight.

_That may well be, but it doesn't feel like it _should_ be._ "Everything seems to make me think of you. I believe that's one of the symptoms, but I don't feel the same sort of yearning and constant distraction I've felt before. Also, I'm eating and sleeping better than ever. Not eating and sleeping were also mentioned as some of the problems of -hm- that condition."

"Love isn't a disease."

"It can certainly cause pain."

"I don't want to hurt you!"

"I don't want to have feelings that are unwelcome to you." He hissed, so angry at himself for suddenly making a connection, for voicing a concern that had set them on this path, ruining their peaceful evening.

"But I love you, too. That's welcome! I think about you all the time." She grabbed his sleeve briefly, but let it go almost at once, as if afraid to touch. "It's true. Not just s-saying it." She took a step away.

"I feel more deeply- hrm- in love with you. Not just the love I had before. This is different."

"But _we're _different. It's okay." She blinked, tears of frustration and confusion coming out of nowhere.

"I made you cry." _What the bloody fuck happened to a nice dinner and good music? How did I turn this into our own tragic opera?_

"Please don't … stop."

"Tara, if I liked seeing you cry, I'm afraid I'd need to be- exterminated. Because that's the only word for disposing of such a repulsive creature as a man who willingly makes women cry."

"N-not that! Please don't stop the- the part where you love me." She ignored his tangent on the wrong track with a shake of her head.

"Darling, I'm telling you I can't. It's getting more, not less, not evening out."

"But so is mine. We are- we are going to be 'in' love. Giles, it's like- noun against verb."

"Pardon?"

"Love is a noun, a thing, an idea. So we had that. We knew we had love for each other, and now- now we're actively using it together, making each other h-happy. Having a life together. We're allowed to be _in_ love."

"Theoretical moves to applied?"

"I think it's sexy you use science terms when we're talking about us." She wiped her eyes with a weak grin.

"And I find it immensely attractive that you used grammatical ones." He wiped her eyes with the hem of his shirt. "I don't want to push you. I don't want to feel like I'm moving ahead of where you need to be, or could _ever_ be. You're in love with Willow. Death shouldn't change that. I respect that. I admire it, I don't want to change it."

"You can't change it, losing my mind couldn't, a goddess couldn't, death couldn't. I'm not moving past it, away from it. Willow is… Willow is forever. She's my always."

_She said she wished she could speak like me. I wish I could speak like her. _"Beautiful." He whispered sincerely.

"I can't be 'in love' with you like that."

"I know."

"And you're not in love with me like that. I can tell. You're… no, _we're_, growing. No falling. Appreciating. Because we do more and more together. Wouldn't it make- um- scientific sense- that the more we expose ourselves to each other, the deeper the connection gets? Oh. N-not expose like- although we kinda have been… I mean- do you get what I mean?" She babbled to a halt.

"Scientifically speaking- yes. If we continued to experience something together, the effects should continue to grow."

"_Experience_. I should have said that instead of expose." She muttered.

"It doesn't bother you? My growing attachment?"

"Only if you're bothered by mine." She shrugged.

He swallowed. "Is there really?"

"Scary, but yes. Not that I'm scared of you. Scared because I know it's happening and it takes me by surprise. Doesn't seem to be something you control, does it?"

"No, it's like- a natural thing. Not planned."

"It doesn't hurt anyone. Why stop it?"

"Only because I was afraid to hurt you."

Her heart throbbed suddenly. "See? I just- l-loved you more. J-just thinking about the kind of person you are. The unselfish guy."

"I love you."

"I love you."

They kissed in the kitchen, by the sink covered in dirty pots and pans and the half full bottle of wine on the counter. A long, slow, "I am with someone I love" kiss. Another action never taken outside of their bedroom. Tongues stroking, hands in hair, on faces, arms hugging tightly until they pulled apart. Not sexual. Not comforting. Purely some act of love and connection.

"More later?" Tara asked when she parted from him with a gasp for air.

He nodded, getting his own breath back. More of this, more of his love. He tried to imagine a moment where he could find himself hitting a place where he would be able to stop feeling for her, to cut her off, push her away. He couldn't find one. He replied unreservedly, "Absolutely. As much as you want."

* * *

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

**Union**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ A story about love, but maybe not about romance. A sweet little piece about two gentle people who love each other without being in love, trying to overcome regrets, fear, and loneliness in order to keep what's left of their lives together. Completely AU, after season five._

_Author's Note: It's a piece about Tara and Giles. I never imagined I would write such a piece, but the idea would not leave alone until it was written. If you find that wrong, bad, or in someway worth getting upset over, please stop reading. I don't write to make people sad, I write because I love it and I like to share what's in my head with people who are looking to enjoy a flight of fancy. _

_**Author's Second Note**__: Voting is now open, and Union and Timeless are both up for awards at Sunnydale Memorial Awards! Thank you so much for the nominations and I hope you'll vote and continue to support my writing! _

_Dedicated to AGriffinWriter, ValidescopeWest, Writerdragonfly, TieDyeJackson, kitakana, SaulGood, JustJane18, RPfan1976, __sbyamibakura__, and Omslagspapper, for their wonderful support. _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** VIII**

It had been tempting to abandon the mess in the kitchen and the idea of making a healing balm- and then the thunder clapped and the lights flickered, and they both jumped in surprise. Only Giles' jerky motion was accompanied by a sharp intake of breath and a flex of his fingers, as if he wanted to reach for his side, but stopped himself.

_ Of course. I__'ve known him for a couple years and never seen him rub his back or complain about the pain he has. He won't even let himself try to soothe it if anyone's watching. He'll get used to me being around eventually._ "C'mon. Mortar and pestles, one for each?"

"Are you sure? It's getting late." _And we were getting so close_.

"It doesn't take long. And then I- we- c-can put some on your back and see if it helps. If you want."

"Oh. Well, it's not that bad, really. But best get it done, I suppose." He agreed nonchalantly. He went and got two different mortal and pestles from the cupboard on the far side, down at the bottom. "In case you didn't know, this is not the baking ingredient area. This is where all the potion accessories and ingredients are. If you wish to combine… I know you have more of a collection of materials than I have." He got out of her way as she knelt and inspected.

"They're in the big trunk in the guest room. I'll keep some of my stuff in there, the crystals and some of the bigger things, charms we made. B-but I'll bring my ingredients in sometime soon."

"No hurry. You needn't if you don't want to. I know magic is not just a matter of herbs and words to you. It is _in_ you. Something I don't claim to understand."

She nodded thoughtfully. Magic was in her. In Willow. Magic had been their first bond, it paved the way for all the others they soon had, friendship, love, lovers, parters.

It felt so odd, almost unsettling, that she now could list all those bonds and apply them to her relationship with Giles. "I want to practice with you." She whispered.

"Thank you." He put his hand briefly on her shoulder, and then left the kitchen, letting her rise on her own.

* * *

_There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold_

_And she's buying a stairway to heaven._

_When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed_

_With a word she can get what she came for._

_Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to heaven._

They worked in quiet, not silence. Low, easy voices, half questions they found answered by the other almost before they were spoken. Grinding and mixing, working side by side as the music flowed behind them, repeating again and again as the single skated around the turntable.

"Vanilla or lavender?" She had him pegged as vanilla- no, clove, but she didn't have clove.

"Hm. What if you add a few scrapings of vanilla, and a little oil of clove? Will that dilute it too much? I'm assuming this is just for scent."

She blinked. _We're pretty attuned for two people without a lot of chance to communicate. Guess this must be right, as wrong as the roads were to get here._ "I like clove." Tara murmured. "It fits you, you know?"

"Well, I- I don't want to take it all. Can you use this?"

"I don't need to very often." She added the clove oil before he could change his mind. "Don't worry. I like it too."

Soon a thick off-white paste filled a pint bowl, looking for all the world like a cookie batter left unfinished.

"Words?" Giles asked.

"All the healing that lies in thee, unlock and healing be set free, unleash the pain that lies in me." Tara explained quietly, in an undertone, as if afraid the balm would hear her and start its work too soon.

"A triplet verse, unusual in magic. Very nice. Do you need anything else before you- complete it?"

"I need you, of course." She stepped one step forward as he began to edge back. "This is the best part."

It was. It was like a slow adrenaline build, holding her hands on the side of the bowl, listening to her voice and his mingling, eyes closing yet able to envision her, feel her. Heavy, short breaths, her bust rising and falling as magic seemed to breathe out of her, as her words gave life to a spell. He felt the tingle under his skin, and his voice rang, not loud, but clear and commanding.

* * *

_The master of the magic. He respects it, reveres it, and treats it like he knows its power. But also has been a slave to it._ She wondered if Willow would have been able to have that balanced relationship with magic, or would it have consumed her eventually? _We'll never find out. But I admire Giles. He fought it off. Learned to hold it and bend it to his will. _Her skin didn't tingle, it pulsed, throbbed. So did other parts of her.

Felt familiar. _This is how it started with Willow. This moves so differently. This ends differently. I hope. _

Their closed eyes opened on the last repetition of the verse, and shared a smile. Shared a shy, subtle heat.

"Ready?" He asked, throat tight.

_There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure_

_'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings._

_In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings,_

_Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven._

"Yes."

_Wait. What are talking about? The lotion, or- something else?_

_Ooh, it makes me wonder,_

_Ooh, it makes me wonder._

They went upstairs, her with the stone bowl in her hands. Thunder speared the night and the record scratched for a second as the power flickered. "I'll light a few candles. Atmospheric as well as practical tonight." He tried to smile, but it wouldn't come. Couldn't relax.

"Sure. I'll go get a towel for the bed. I-if you want to lay down? Y-you can sit up."

"Whatever you recommend."

"Whatever feels right. The towel works either way." She put down her dish and tripped off down the steps. "Be right back!"

He removed his shirt, slowly. His scars stung, and the muscles underneath ached. He wondered, as he usually did during such storms, if the muscle had been damaged, if the damage was surface, or more. Wondered if in some places there were just so many overlapping reminders of battles that it wasn't the muscle at all, just a network of damaged nerve endings.

_And I want someone to touch those?_ He winced. _Want someone to see those? As in truly _see._Not just the passing glance. To stare at them as she works her magic into my skin. To hear the sympathetic tone, to hear the horrified gasp. Feel her wondering, "what exactly did the bastard do to him"… _He blinked, shook his head suddenly, heart pounding. He tried to forget those moments.

He was frozen, afraid to remove the sleeveless undershirt clinging to his chest.

_Those moments you never want anyone to see… and we already had to watch them play out._

* * *

She was surprised to see him standing by the bed, statue-like, one hand on the hem of his shirt, the other hanging loose and lost at his side. "Giles? Rupert?"

_There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,_

_And my spirit is crying for leaving._

_In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,_

_And the voices of those who stand looking._

A relief to see her there. Sweet comfort. He didn't like to draw on it, or expect it, yet it simply was. It was as much a part of her as her smile or her voice. He opened his mouth to speak, and all that came out was a swallow. Tried again. "Tara."

"I'm here."

"I'm so glad. So very glad." His head bowed suddenly, shoulders slumped, exhausted. Tired of concealing pain and fighting pain. Always about the pain, and nights like this meant he couldn't fully escape all the battles he'd made it through.

"It doesn't sting." Tara bit her lip. "I promise. Goes on smooth. Like- like aloe, only better." She held out a hand to him. _One of the bravest people I've ever met- and I can tell this bothers him. Maybe not scares him. Just worries him. What's under the scars? They're the surface, after all. They can still hurt, but there's always something underneath. _

_Ooh, it makes me wonder,_

_Ooh, it really makes me wonder._

He licked his lips. "I had a few massages in my time." He whispered. _Olivia- with oil. Mutual, sexual, laughing as we experimented, taking sips of wine or drags on a cigarette between strokes._ "They weren't like this."

"Given a couple. Not like this." She smiled and pulled him to the edge of the bed. "How about if you sit, and I'll kneel behind you?"

"Fine, thank you, dear."

Arms up, shirt off, and a little shiver for both, his as cooler air hit, hers as she saw all the things she caught brief glimpses of, felt when they held each other.

"I know. It's worse full on. If it bothers you, we don't…" He never got to finish his offer. There was a rustle of silken hair against his skin, then lips, leaving little raindrop kisses.

_I love this woman._ His hand slid back over his shoulder, silently reaching for hers.

"M-make you feel better." She promised.

_And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune,_

_Then the piper will lead us to reason._

_And a new day will dawn for those who stand long,_

_And the forests will echo with laughter._

* * *

Her hands were soft and full of the stuff. Not like he supposed it should be used, dabbed on the affected area. _But if the entire area is affected, I suppose this works._ She smoothed it on unhurriedly, rubbed it in, and then, when he felt sure she should stop, the healing potion applied, she scooted back, keeping her hands on his shoulders. "I need your help."

"Anything, what can I do?" He answered in a surprised voice. After all, she was the one helping him.

"Can you get this off me?" She used him for leverage, then hopped off the bed and stood in front of him, hands outstretched.

"Right, a towel." He reached for the one she had brought up with her.

"No- not my hands. My dress. Don't want to get it on my clothes."

"Oh. Oh, certainly." He swallowed and reached forward. One of those peasant type dresses, a lavender and blue, with a stitched up drawstring bodice and far too much fabric flowing from it. "How exactly we get this off of you without getting any on it remains to be seen."

"If you loosen it, I'll step out of it. Then you can lay down."

"Right, make a fist, I'll work your arm through the sleeve and then I- pardon me, what was that, dear?"

"Lay down. I'm not done yet."

* * *

_If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,_

_It's just a spring clean for the May queen._

_Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run_

_There's still time to change the road you're on._

_And it makes me wonder_.

* * *

_I should stop this._ He felt better and worse at the same time. His back felt like it was made of something warm and soft, uninjured, whole again, not a bit of pain. To add to it, she was astride him at the waist, still in her underthings, but with her bare thighs against his outer legs, reminding him of their often used position, only he was facing the wrong way now._ In other words, this is still heavenly._

_ And ghastly._ He could feel the waiting, he could feel her… feel her _knowing_.

She touched each place tenderly, lingeringly, not repulsed. Each touch, wishing she had been braver, bolder, tried a stronger magic to take the scars away, not just a temporary solution to minor twinges. These weren't wounds he was proud of. These weren't battle scars. This kind of injury was so much worse.

She blinked. Tears fell, penetrated the coating on his skin.

Giles felt them, his head jerking. "Darling, don't." He murmured. He would've turned, but couldn't without unseating her. "No call for fresh tears over old injuries." Giles tried to say with false buoyancy.

_See? Brave and unselfish. Unselfishly brave, or bravely unselfish, or both._ "I love you so much, Rupert. I… Do you remember when you saw wh-what happened to me?"

_Oh God! _This time he half turned, straining to look back at her. "Oh Tara, if this reminds you, even remotely, we should stop."

Undeterred, she leaned forward, "Remember how you cried with me?"

"With you, yes. But I'm not crying now. You needn't." He gave her a sober but clear-eyed gaze.

She ignored him, showing him that quiet stubbornness he had come to know, would learn more deeply was part of her strength. "You cried because you knew someone hurt me, and it left me scarred on the inside. I'm crying because I love you, and s-someone did this to you… on purpose."

No denying the truth. He nodded once, jerkily.

"It makes me_ sick_. It makes me sad. I'm going to make you better." She rubbed his skin with fresh determination and fresh tears. "Even for a little while…"

* * *

_Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know,_

_The piper's calling you to join him,_

_Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know_

_Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?_

Trying to tap into him, to read him, to build the connection that she felt him have with her. She wondered if it was residual effects from the bed, or the strength of their growing bond that let her begin to perceive things. Pick up on things, faint whispers, ghost images, blurred.

He was reliving them now. The "personal attention" a master vampire gave him. A master vampire who he had tried to trust, who he had entrusted with his most precious gift- his Slayer. His Buffy. He felt the bile rise in him, the self-berating starting as he saw there was no soul left in those eyes, just the cold black smile of a monster with a century or so's experience in torture, enjoying the savagery of inflicting pain, getting pleasure from every little sound he could ring from him.

How long had he held out without any noises? A bad spiral, a thousand moments, because even though they blurred, it was like he could remember every second-yet none at all, all a whirl of pain and loss. How long had the entire ordeal taken? Hours. How long before he gave in, made a sound for the bastard? Maybe an hour, maybe less. His ego wished it had been more.

Tara bit down a gasp. She saw them as they were that day, the scars under her hands suddenly raw and open, bleeding and skin raising, welting around splits and tears. She swallowed a whimper.

"Stop." He wheezed.

Was it him asking Angelus to let him breathe a moment, a mercy he would not have granted anyway, or was he asking now?

Tara's hands lifted instantly, although she was puzzled. Was that a real voice, or was than an "echo"? "Done?"

"I… No. Sorry." His voice shook.

"I think it's as absorbed as I can work in for now. We c-can do more another time. Whenever you're ready. I mean, want to."

"The pain is gone. It's wonderful." Physically, like a new man. He felt her move slowly from him, but she laid on her side immediately, arm draped over his back, fingers still tenderly, lightly gliding.

"Is this okay?"

"Certainly. Of course." _Take comfort in her. She's offering it, she's giving it. Tell her._

* * *

_And as we wind on down the road_

_Our shadows taller than our soul._

_There walks a lady we all know_

_Who shines white light and wants to show_

_How everything still turns to gold._

* * *

Words failed to come.

He wished that had been the case that night.

Jenny begging him to speak. Telling him, beaten, weak, and injured, that he could help her, that they could be together, if he told her the secret. Feeling the blissful touch of her lips again, knowing something was off. Jenny was not really there. Jenny was dead because Angelus killed her. Jenny would be lifeless and cold- and so were the lips on his. But Jenny wouldn't be …

Twin cries of pained realization. Giles' as he remembered the horror of opening his eyes and watching Drusilla's cruel smile moving away from his mouth, Tara's as she saw, like a sudden sharp flash, the bound man toyed with, waking up and feeling his heartbreak. Guilt. "Rupert."

"How?" He knew she saw. He was embarrassed, angry, so stricken afresh with the memory and all the pain it caused.

"I-I don't know. I'm not psychic, but I can read people. Not like_ this_, usually. I'm- I'm very close to you." She removed her hand, afraid she'd somehow gone too far. His eyes were angry, his tone brittle and harsh. "M-maybe it's leftover from the b-bed? The other bed?" Tara asked timidly, hand drawing nervously to her chest.

"Perhaps." He growled and pushed himself up suddenly, pain gone, moving like the bruising brawler of a man Ripper had been. Tara let out a squeak, emotions jumbling inside her. Not afraid of him, afraid for him, maybe. Seeing the things you wished you'd never lived through, seeing them again, sharp and fresh in your mind- the mind could become a dangerous place and spill out into the body.

"Did you see what he did to me?" Giles seethed suddenly, a low, broken hiss, not looking at her. "Do you know how long he carried on for? I don't even know that."

"No, I can only see what you see- felt. It was a l-long time." She could tell.

"He threatened to make it worse. Turn to the other parts. My_ face_." Other places, places that even now he wouldn't repeat to Tara. "Below the waist. Already had a go on my hands." He flexed the fingers that had been broken. "Only reason he didn't start in on the other threats was because I didn't break. All this-" he jerked his thumb angrily over his shoulder, "and I wouldn't tell him. I even- I spat in his face. Told him to do the ritual in a tutu." He paced, caged in his own memory.

"You did good." She whispered, meaning it, but knowing it was hugely inadequate to say.

"I did a bloody fucking miserable job of it!" He broke down, hitting the wardrobe suddenly, hard enough to rock it, tears springing from his eyes. "All the pain didn't make me talk, but… for love. So weak for it… even the imitation of it…the _sight_ of her… and I told." His voice died away. His head came to rest on the carved oak door of the wardrobe.

She was silently on her feet, padding slowly towards him without invading his space. "That makes sense." She whispered.

He jerked back. "What?"

"You're brave. You're strong. You didn't have physical weaknesses, even after all he did. Love is the most powerful force in the world, so of course that's the only real weapon Angelus had against you."

He let her words sink in. His head went back to the door, but this time she could see his frame shaking silently. He was letting it hold him up as angry tears came out, tears he refused to let her see or hear, but she knew they were there.

"They killed her. They used her against me. They- _used_ her." The disgust and the outrage didn't just come form his voice, it seemed to come from his soul, so angry and grief-stricken that he choked after those words, and nothing else came out for a full minute. "The worst thing they could do to her memory… I let it happen…"

"No! No, Rupert, that's not your memory of her. That's what they did. It never was real, and you survived. Sometimes we just have to survive things we- sh-should never have had to experience in the first place."

"I shouldn't have survived. I should have died before I told them. Should have known! I knew something was off, but I was so tired, and … I wanted to believe, I suppose…"

Her arms slid around his waist, no longer caring about protecting her clothes, she pressed her bra-covered chest to his back. "If you hadn't survived- I d-don't this family would have survived. I know it's not a comforting thing, doesn't make it better, but… all of us are glad you lived through it. Horrible as it was, you made it. Helped all of us make it."

His roles came rushing back to him. Father. Protector. Watcher, guide, wise one, unflappable stiff upper lip adult to be counted on. "I shouldn't let you see me get like this." He mumbled. It didn't occur to him that Tara had a different relationship with him now.

"You're my husband. I'm supposed to see the real you. Scars and all. Inside ones and outside ones and… y-you've seen some of my worst ones too." Tara comforted.

Another nod, silent. Then, "The others don't know how bad it is. How … how I still feel the loss. Or other things." _ I can't let them know. Or I lose part of how they see me, and even with all the burdens that go along with it, I treasure being who I am, what they need. _

"I won't tell." She shook her head. "It's between us, private. I promise."

"I'm sorry you had to see such a weakness in me."

_He's not hearing me. But he's locked in his own feelings. Time to reach out with something he can't ignore._ "Do you think I'm weak? Because I let me father h-hurt me? And years later I still have trouble being touched where he-"

"No! Oh, Tara, no!" Shaken from his stupor of rage and guilt, he turned to face her, take her hands. "That isn't your fault. You're incredibly strong, graceful. The word I believe I want is 'courageous'." He told her firmly.

"H-how is what they did to you different than what he did to me? I'm sure Angelus could have…" she tried not to gag as she forced the words out, "hurt you in the same way, but instead he hurt you just as bad, someplace else. He took a relationship that was supposed to be- special. Innocent. Loving. He used it to get something." Her voice shook, her chin trembled.

"Tara." He wanted to stop her flow of words, could see the pained panic coming over her again.

"Please don't let them win. If they beat you… I guess there's no hope for me, either."

"Oh, darling, shh. Shh, no. We're surviving. Yes, we are, you're right. We are. Together, we are." They were one tangle of tears and tightly wrapped arms, rocking in the candlelight as they tried to let go and hold on at the same time.

_And if you listen very hard_

_The tune will come to you at last._

_When all are one and one is all_

_To be a rock and not to roll._

Kissing away her tears turned to kissing her lips, and her massaging hands turned to needy ones, pulling at his clothes, but stopping him when he went for her panties. "I want us to- help it feel better."

"It does, it does." He flexed his shoulders. He could have picked her up, swept her off her feet, carried her a mile now.

"Have things to be healed from. Both of us."

"Yes, but we're getting better. We are healing. Every day, honestly. Tonight was just a - just one of those moments we have to share on the road to recovery. If there is a recovering."

"I don't think you ever lose things. Not the good ones. The bad ones you can remember, but there's got to be a place where they don't hurt. H-hurt as much. I know there are, because you make it that way, for me."

"I'm glad. Because you do the same for me."

She swallowed. "Sometime soon, we'll find a way to take the scars away." He opened his mouth. "No, not what caused them. Just the hold they have." Another swallow, "There's better magic. Stronger. I can do it." _For him, I have to do it. So he can be free of the marks, the claws left in him._

The dream he had while on their brief honeymoon suddenly passed through his mind. That she was making love to him, him on top, and her hands- her hands wiped away his scars. "I'm sure you can." He breathed, stroking back her hair.

"You can. You will. When you're in- in me."

"I'll only give what you want, love." He didn't ask if she was sure. He could hear the determination and longing in her voice. Feel the extra firmness in her hands as she held onto him. "No pain, no scars, I promise."

"I believe you." She made a frustrated sound.

"Not right now. Not yet." He rubbed her lower back, the curve of her supple spine. "I can't right now. Or for a couple more days. O-or I think I would. Would try at least."

He frowned but nodded. "I'll wait for a time you're ready, if it comes. It never needs to happen." He reassured. "If there are other things that I could do, that you think would have the same result, we can try them."

"No, Giles…" She blushed. "It's not that I'm not 'ready'. I think I really am." He would feel so good in her, good with her. Better- the act of finding what was stolen, getting it back, gifted with love- even if it took a long time, lots of half-tries, she was sure now. Sure that she wanted to heal with him, and heal him, even if they only did things once, more of a ritualistic event. "Just, my timing is a little off for that." she blushed slightly. "It's around the third week." She said significantly.

"Oh?" Lowered eyebrows swiftly arched as understanding hit. "Oh!"

"Just started this afternoon."

"You said I would know, but I wasn't able to tell." He studied her discreetly. He'd been around women of childbearing age, complete with cycles and all that went with them, for years. He never had lived with one though, and he was waiting for something to signal him to the event.

"W-well, you might be able to tell by the end of the week when all the food in the house is gone. Major munchies. Not so much cramps or mood swings. But munchies."

"I'll make sure the house stays well supplied." He patted her side, attempting to pull back, give her space.

She stepped with him, not losing the intense look in her eye. "Just because I can't, doesn't mean I don't want to. Or that we have to be finished. Unless y-you want to because- yeah." Hard to picture Giles, who still couldn't say "bra" or "panties" without coughing or polishing something, getting sensual right now.

"Oh no. That's not a problem. If _you're_ comfortable?"

Her eyes were swallowing him, pulling him in to someplace private and blissful, a place he never wanted to leave. "I'm safe with you."

* * *

_And she's buying a stairway to heaven._

"Talk to me?" She slid against him, a slippery seal with its mate, playing in something wet and slick.

Two topless forms that rolled on towel-covered sheets, smelling of a sweet, rich scent, both partners feeling equally limber for a change. "My mouth is full." He chuckled, lifting her across his lap, sucking a nipple in as she moaned and kneaded his back.

"Oh God." She panted, feeling her tender insides cramp pleasurably.

"I can talk to you. Quite easily." He whispered, lolling back, letting her ride him down. "I'm safe with you as well."

"On top?"

"Or bottom, anywhere." He kissed her cheek and they moved together, covered hardness to covered valley, easing their frustrations.

Hard to say the words "practice with me", but that's what she wanted. Let her get used to the feeling of him more and more, and let her feel that tight, burning fire in her middle that told her it was time, that she'd be ready soon. She didn't need words, Tara realized. She put one hand behind his neck and pulled gently, and he came to her, magnetically.

Giles sat up with her, kissing in the candlelight, his hand caressing her bare back and then breasts with skillful fingers. When she slid around him, lying on her back, he only hesitated for a second. She raised both arms to him, mutely telling him to come to her.

To come home.

"I love you." He sank down, careful to keep his weight comfortable on her, not too much, and yet letting his body rest on hers. She liked the weight of him, the solid feel of his arms wrapping around her. He could tell by the way she snuggled in with a contented sound. "I'm learning to read you, too."

"Good. It'll be easier." She swallowed.

Ahhh. He felt like his soul-sighed. The body-wracking slide that they were doing wasn't half so pleasurable as the light in her eyes, the softness of her voice. "It would have been incredibly easy for me. I'm glad you think that it will be for you."

So, so easy to love this man, her friend, her defender. And not feel a betrayal to Willow, her lover, her always, her freedom. Her broken heart felt oddly… whole. She gives me freedom. _To love someone- how I choose. Who I choose. I chose her. When she was gone, I chose him. Not to replace her. To help her._ "She loved me so much."

"I know, love." He stroked her cheek, ran his nose to hers briefly, sorrow in his eyes for the one they lost.

"She would love that you're going to help. I'm going to help you. I feel- like I can be whole again. Even if it's hurting."

"Never any pain from me. Hope I can keep you from ever enduring any more." _And what a hope that is, in this terrible place, in this fallen world. But for her, I can wish it. _"Everything that follows, everything new, I hope it'll be something good."

His voice, his touch, subtle yet strong, sure but not demanding. All of this new. All of this good. "It really is. So far."

He was going to remind her, as he did every time, that no farther was necessary. Only, this was a journey, and it was time for them both to continue it. Not moving on, or away, but past. "Much farther to go."

"Miles." She whispered with a smile

* * *

_Roadblocks_

"Here are the October and November automatic biannual renewals, Sir."

"Johnston- still with a potential in New South Wales?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, as Summers and Lehane seem to be unkillable for the moment, I suppose I ought to have a rubber stamp made." Travers grumbled as he signed routine paperwork, something he touched very little of, only those documents requiring a powerful man's signature, one which was not questioned by foreign offices, though the foreign offices never really understood why. That mainly meant immigration and visa paperwork, and legal matters surrounding mysterious deaths of public figures which needed hushing up.

"Now then…" He was rifling through papers, not even looking, just blindly signing, when his undersecretary stopped him.

"Wait, Sir. Brough needs a new assignment visa. His potential turned 26 this September. She's no longer on the radar. He's due to head to an Israeli potential in Tel Aviv next month."

"Right." He changed the requesting country on the paperwork and then signed. "Six month renewals? Just the one." He gestured impatiently as he reached the end of the stack.

"Sir?"

"Rupert Giles. The only Watcher with an active, un-incarcerated Slayer, man." He huffed with mounting irritability.

"I don't seem to have that." The junior looked through files in his hand, but came up empty.

"It is unusual." No one was given that sort of paperwork hoop to jump through. Except Giles. Travers had done it discreetly. He didn't want to overtly appear so petty to his respected colleagues. He acted dismissive, "Possibly someone more senior than yourself has it. All his paperwork should come directly to me from now on. Take a memo."

"Of course, Sir."

Travers picked up the phone and called down to general reception. "Travers. I want Rupert Giles' visa application paperwork sent up immediately. Find out who has it." He hung up without pausing to allow the receptionist to speak.

In twenty minutes, a very slender envelope arrived, not what he expected, far less heft than even the automatic standard paperwork he received. "What the devil is this?" He muttered without heat. "And who had it?"

"Payroll, Sir."

"What? Why?" His patrician eyebrows raised.

"Ah, let me see- yes. They put it to the committee for an increase."

"An increase!"

"Standard increase for spousal stipend." He read the note on the file that had contained the envelope.

"Spouse?" Travers' eyebrows now tried to rest beyond his receding hairline, and he practically tore the paper from the envelope. "The party Rupert Giles has received an indefinite extension on his renewal application pending processing his application for permanent dual citizenship -!" Travers broke off there as his voice peaked. He continued loudly, rising from his chair, "Dual citizenship as the spouse of an American citizen! Official inquiries begun by the Department of Immigration and Naturalization… forms will be submitted for renewal only if the applicant is denied through this channel or the channel of standard request for dual citizenship, which was submitted in July of this year. Contact us … What nonsense can this be?" Travers sat heavily.

"Well, he has been over there for about six years. He's not that old. Bound to meet someone at some point."

"Senior Watchers, third generations Watchers on active duty do not just 'meet someone'. It will be someone with connections to the Slayer, or Watching, or the mystical. That was the case with that- that what's her name, the Calderash woman."

"Who's that, Sir?"

"Never mind." He kept tabs on the active Watcher, the same as he did the active Slayer- well, he had before they'd become insurrectionists, the type who weren't ruled by him anyway. Lehane was locked up, Summers and Giles were playing ball again- with reinstatement and a substantial increase in the Watcher's pay, and he had to work his screws in somehow. The Travers family didn't take slights easily, and the disregard and disobedience both had shown him came as rather a large "slight". "Hrm. Married, has he? An American citizen. Did he happen to provide us a name of his bride? We'll need it."

"Tara Maclay."

"Why does that sound familiar?"

"I couldn't say, Sir."

"No matter." He transformed his face into something careless and put the papers back in his underling's hands. "No matter at all. We'll see how they do on the other side of the pond, if they'll need my signature or not. That will be all for now."

_For now._

* * *

He paced once around the desk, then peered out his heavy curtains, looking down on London, as he seemed to look down on everything. He looked at the world as if it was his own personal chess board , filled with pawns and pieces to move and manipulate.

_ But the object is never to lose the game. The Queen must remain. _

He sighed. Summers would quit again if anything happened to Giles that she perceived to be from a meddling Council. It had never been his intention to have the younger Watcher recalled or actually have his clearances to remain in America revoked. He only wanted to remind them, both Watcher and Slayer, that they belonged to him again. That is, they were the employees of the Council, under his orders. _His._ This was crucial, naturally. Rogue Watchers and Slayers caused no end of trouble, and they tied his hands, made him a pointless figurehead, a general without any weapons for his army.

Rupert Giles must remain on the Hellmouth. He could not possibly be returned to England unless Summers had died and her successor was called. This six month application for visa renewal was meant to be a mere reminder of who controlled their lives, not an end to their duty. He sighed.

He dialed.

"Burgess."

"Travers, here."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Travers." The voice on the other end was unmistakably American, middle-aged and educated. "It's been some time. When was it last?"

"A few years ago, I believe. That senator who died on a visit."

"Right, right. No M.P. kicked the bucket over here, have they?"

"Not at all. I have a chap up for dual citizenship. Applied for it, and the on top of it, married an American woman."

"Congrats."

"Not entirely in order, I'm afraid."

"Oh?"

"He needs to be reminded of his loyalties on occasion." Travers waved his hand as if swatting a hovering gnat.

"Hm. Prefer him to be denied? Remain forever a British citizen- and only a British citizen?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to say yes. But then he paused. Giles was unpredictable, egged on by his thoroughly unique Slayer. He might up and move back out of spite, take his charge with him, leave the Hellmouth unprotected.

"No, dammit, I can't have that. He _has_ to be approved." Travers admitted in a mildly frustrated voice.

"No problem, I can have his case expedited, handle it myself if you want."

"I would consider it a personal favor if you would do the opposite of expedite. He needs to -hrm- sweat a bit. Could you potentially arrange it so that your most 'suspicious' agents handle his case- and then hand their recommendations to you?"

"And I approve, no matter what?"

"If you'd be so kind."

"Am I going to have make anything 'go away'?"

_Nothing I haven't already made vanish a thousand times. Poor Burgess, you don't even know the extent of what you're dealing with, dancing on a "diplomatic" wire._ "No, no, clean upstanding chap. Bit eccentric, but no threat at all to anyone's security. Couldn't ask for a better man in a fight, honestly." Travers begrudgingly gave the Watcher his due.

"But you don't like him?"

"No, I can't say that I like him."

"You old school Brits never say you like anyone." Burgess chuckled and clicked a few keys on his computer, bringing up a different screen. "Name?"

"Rupert Giles."

"G-i-l-e-s?"

"That's it."

"We have his substantiating documentation following the application… License checked out, it was a legal wedding, and Tara Maclay, the bride, is a bona fide American citizen, born here- ooh, not that long ago. Twenty some years apart between husband and wife." He did a quick look at the vitals on Giles. "Not really a surprise though. See it all the time, different nationalities or not, forty-something man going for the hot young girl."

Travers frowned. Giles didn't seem the type to cast in with a woman half his age, hot or otherwise, he'd had his "mid-life crisis" at about twenty after all, that trouble with a demon-worshipping set. Technically, Rupert should be dead by now, if that was his mid-life crisis.

Though, he supposed, given Rupert's attachment to the Slayer and her "sidekicks", it would be the most likely choice, to pick one of those young but aware women to take an interest in.

" Travers? Did I lose you?"

"Sorry, momentary interference on the line. No matter the age difference. Unless it's something your man might use to open a line of inquiry."

"He might ask a few questions about it. He asks a few questions about everything."

"Have him ask a few more than a few this time, if you'd be so kind."

"How long would you like them to sweat this out?" Burgess seemed suddenly a little hesitant.

"How long would your typical wait be?"

"Nothing is typical."

"Humor me."

"Three or four months, from now to finish."

"Make it six to twelve. Is that feasible?"

"I'll see what I can do. Out of curiosity- what'd this guy do to you?"

Travers frowned at the impudence. "We don't ask unnecessary questions. Do we?"

"No." Burgess shrugged and scrolled through the list of agents to whom he could assign pending cases. He clicked on one particularly difficult man, a man he himself did not like, and typed "low" in the priority box next to the Giles' assignment. "You're set, Travers. All you have to do is wait."

"Oh, _I'm_ not waiting. I know the eventual result is a favorable outcome."

_But they don't. That's what makes it so terribly annoying._ With a nastily satisfied smile, he hung up the phone.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

**Union**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ A story about love, but maybe not about romance. A sweet little piece about two gentle people who love each other without being in love, trying to overcome regrets, fear, and loneliness in order to keep what's left of their lives together. Completely AU, after season five._

_Author's Note: It's a piece about Tara and Giles. I never imagined I would write such a piece, but the idea would not leave alone until it was written. If you find that wrong, bad, or in someway worth getting upset over, please stop reading. I don't write to make people sad, I write because I love it and I like to share what's in my head with people who are looking to enjoy a flight of fancy. _

_**Author's Second Note**__: Voting is now open, and Union and Timeless are both up for awards at Sunnydale Memorial Awards! Thank you so much for the nominations and I hope you'll vote and continue to support my writing! _

_Author's Third Note: Sexual content warning._

_Dedicated to AGriffinWriter, ValidescopeWest, Writerdragonfly, TieDyeJackson, kitakana, sybyamibakura, Ginar369, RPfan1976, __sbyamibakura__, and Omslagspapper, who are continuing to ride this strange train with me._

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** IX**

_October_

"Have you heard anything?"

"A note stating they received our documentation and all is in order. They said our home interviewer will be in touch to schedule an appointment."

"But they didn't say you have to leave the country until he does, right? Because it's October. November is next."

"Buffy, I told you- swing from the wrist, not the shoulder, speed not force!- that it's indefinitely extended. November is no longer the month of terror. Although the Fifth- Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder-

"Remember, remember, I'm hacking up this thing and I'm an American. Is it like July 4th?" Buffy panted as she tried to concentrate on her opponent and listen.

"Not exactly." Giles sighed and took the blade from her. "Well. You've made minute steak of him. Her. I can't really tell the gender now."

Buffy gazed at the gelatinous shreds at her feet. What had been gelatinous blobs ten minutes ago. "You mean you could tell before?"

"Not quite, but you have to get the Aflah'ki demon in the prone position to view the-"

"Stop! Stop, stop. I want to kill these, not breed them." Buffy gagged. "Some frat hazing gone wrong, huh?"

"Any time young, foolish people try to play a demon, they're the losers." Giles muttered grimly. "I think that's all for tonight. You need a shower. And your shoes- well, send me the bill for new ones or a receipt for old ones and I'll submit them with the expense report."

"Wait, we have an expense account?" Buffy's eyes lit up. "They owe me like two whole wardrobes! Why is this news to me?"

"Because it's only now that I'm having the audacity to ask what should be automatically given, Slayer necessities under the account of her Watcher. We're to protect you and guide you. Feed and clothe should be obvious, but it isn't always. Usually only if the girl was a minor and had no family to speak of was she placed in the Watcher's care as some kind of ward."

"But I'm not a minor. I have a dad, too." Buffy's face had been brighter lately, some of her quips and banter resurfacing, slowly and infrequently, still mixed in equal parts with long, silent bouts of grieving and worry. They were all like that, but at least something more uplifting was coming back to the little family.

Speaking of which, "Travers might deny my claim. But I'm going to make it. He claimed I had a father's love for you. Let him see I'm - well, for lack of a better word, in the fatherly position."

She lunged at him suddenly, making him shout hoarsely and drop the sword he'd been carrying, narrowly missing both their feet. "I love you. Thank you. You can't leave. Thank Tara for me, too. No, I'll thank her. I'm thanking you both, okay?"

"Buffy, calm down." Giles patted her back, mildly bewildered. Not a new feeling around people of Buffy's generation, especially Buffy herself. "I'm thankful to be here as well, and of course we're trying to make that permanent."

"She's doing a good job. You both are."

"It's not a job, Buffy. But thank her all the same, we could all use the kind words." His voice had gone harsh, than sank back into mellowness.

"I didn't mean it was like a _job,_ job. Just, you know… Not easy."

_But it is easy. Very easy, dangerously easy._ Made it a month, and this month felt better than the past two years' worth. In the midst of terrible loss, sadness, danger, and uncertainty- there as a comfort and peace he had not experienced before. "It's enjoyable."

Her quiet smile and the way she listened. The way she didn't rush him as he rambled, or roll her eyes at his long words and dusty books. The soft voice, soft hands, soft laugh- soft body. He wanted to go home now. Wanted to be out of the still warm night and away from the corpse of the rapidly dissolving demon, and just… not be himself for a moment. Or rather, really be himself, without designated roles that, yes, he loved, but were tiring. Had been going on for so long that he wanted a bit of a break.

She was talking, quietly, seriously, about demons and patrols, something he was uncharacteristically ignoring as he thought to himself. "Watchers typically get a break. Between one year and three years, that's the typical run, and then a furlough while a new potential is found."

"What?" Buffy frowned and halted.

"You've outlasted all of them. I'm so proud of you." He took her frown away with the genuine warmth in his voice. "Do you recall, one night after Willow's- hrm, her funeral, you and I were alone in your living room, and you told me about the 'look of peace' speech Spike had given you weeks before?"

Startled but remembering, she nodded silently.

"He said you wanted it."

"I w-was feeling bad. It should have been me, Giles. Not her."

"No, it should have been none of us, but that isn't what happened." He pushed past the agonies of self-doubt and guilt they all endured, all the survivors willing Willow back, willing themselves into her place, sacrificially. "The point is, you have earned it, more than any other. I've watched you. I've been working alongside you, not always as closely as I should have, but still."

"I'm getting a little freaked here. Are you saying you have contagious death-wish?"

"I'm saying I'm tired, Buffy. We all are. We don't want to die, but we want to rest. And you- you've found that rest, haven't you?" She hesitated. "Peace, Buffy? Where is it, or rather, where is _yours_?"

She wasn't used to this. The role reversal. She always asked him to make it better, to lie to her, even. Just pretend, play along, make everything better. "It's people you love."

"You've had so many of those surrounding you, from the beginning."

"Lost too many of those." If that was peace, it could be taken from you. But then finding someone, new people coming in- maybe that restored it?

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know. Maybe finding one more after you feel like you're just going down and down?" She gave a helpless shrug, not quite looking at him. "Mom. Then when Glory had Dawn, I felt like I was losing everything, everything I should protect. Then Willow…" She swallowed hard. "Man, I thought this was going to be a simple patrol."

"Then you found Spike. Found out he cares for you, truly. Without expectations that you keep everyone safe."

Her wide green eyes flared in the dark, surprise, shock in their depths. Then a spark of suspicion or anger, maybe both, as if he'd caught her in something private, shouldn't be seeing what was her own secret. "Spike likes that I'm the Slayer!"

"He likes that you're_ you_." He shook his head. "That's part of who you are. Watcher is part of me, who I am, what I do. I'm also-" _Weak. Lonely. Lustful. Bitter. Worried. Afraid to fail you. Afraid to get close. Afraid to be alone._ "Also just a man who is tired and more than a little afraid of not keeping the people I love safe. Like you." He cut her off gently as she opened a protesting mouth. "When Spike is with you, it's easier to simply exist. Exist as a person with worries and fears, because he already knows what you are, what you can and will do. There's time to… to drop the mask, and just be."

"Yeah. She breathed out softly, heavily giving into the truth.

"Tara gives me that. Sometimes, when I'm around her, I feel - like I'm just at peace. Just me. Rupert Giles."

A beautiful, silent look of understanding. Then a tiny little snort. "What?"

"I can't picture Tara calling you 'Rupert'. Does she?" Buffy grinned impishly.

Thoughts rushed him. Soft voice, raised voice, voice thick with tears or scaling the high notes of pleasure- _Rupert. Rupert!_

He blinked hastily, blotting out images he really shouldn't be dwelling on in front of Buffy. "Well, actually, yes. She does. A-at times."

"Huh. Cool." They took a few steps. "I…"

"Hm?"

"I never call you that."

"You don't need to start." He chuckled. "To you, I'm Giles. To everyone here, I'm Giles, and frankly, I prefer it. Rupert is a term for- well,-"

"Your wife?" The word wife was wigging her out here.

"On occasion, Buffy." He looked at her from the corner of her eye. "Do you ever call Spike 'William'? I never hear you address him like that."

Had she? Sometimes. During very personal, private, just the two of them, no walls, no roles moments. Moments when they were simply two beings in need of each other. "Sometimes."

"I bet he likes that. That you see him not as his title or earned moniker, but simply as a man."

"Giles, you're creeping me out."

"Why?"

"Cause he says stuff like that. About how he likes that I treat him like a man- not a monster. Hey, I'm not stupid, I get that he's both, but-"

"But we're all more than capable of finding ourselves with a 'title' and a public name." He cut her off. "And sometimes it's simply nice to be one's less complex self. No Spike. No Slayer. No Watcher. William, Buffy, and Rupert. All right?"

"All right." Buffy agreed emphatically.

"No, let me get you home and collect Tara from watching over Dawn- if Dawn will let her go." He laughed.

"Yeah, I think we've met our ick quota for tonight." Buffy winced, looking at her shoes.

She followed Giles to his car, uncharacteristically quiet. She had him all to herself now. And they had some big moment of deep thought sharing- not typical British guy stuff. And really for her, not so big with the emotions and explaining. So it was good. And a big deal.

_And I'm still jealous of Tara. Some special "alone, just me, no titles" bond happening with Giles. _

Jealousy was swept away in shame. She scolded herself sharply, _Willow was Tara's person. That person to give space and private stuff too. Giles lost that years ago. Tara lost it- months ago. And I'm just finding my own again. _

Comforting felt so nice, so much needed. Her jealousy faded. "Hey, you know, you and Tara have to have 'date nights'."

"What?" He had been thinking his own deep thoughts, and for the second time in a night he dropped his sword and nearly tripped over it.

"You're newlyweds. Hot older guy with hot younger woman. You need to have date nights. In public. Take Tara out tomorrow night, Spike and I can do patrol in shifts, and hang with the Dawn while the other one is out."

"Oh, I- well, we don't 'date' per se, married couple are usually past courtship, and-"

"And no INS inspector guy in the world is going to believe that you swept her off her feet in a a couple weeks, and then turned into Grandma and Grandpa, sitting at home doing crosswords."

"I'd rather he think we're at home doing something else." Giles muttered. "I do believe that's customary as well."

Buffy blushed. "Then you better play along with a little romance stuff. Dinner and a movie. Then newlywed stuff. And don't say anything! Just listen to me for once. _Rupert._"

"I suppose we could have a quick meal tomorrow…"

"There's the husband spirit."

* * *

"There's the list supplied with his original documents when he requested dual citizenship." Mr. Sabatini's secretary handed him a slender manilla file.

"Thanks, Judy." He opened it. A list of several names, their relationship to the applicant, and years known. They had to be (in Mr. Sabatini's book, not the official regulations of the department) US citizens to be taken seriously. He was open minded in that they didn't need to be born in the USA, just that they'd lived here a satisfactory space of time and become citizens. And he wanted to see "character witnesses" that had known the applicant for five or more years. In Mr. Sabatini's mind, you could fool someone for about four years and nine months. Then something gave.

"Anyone you can actually talk to?" Judy sighed, knowing her boss's strict personal guidelines.

"Not as many as I'd like. Some of these people are good for general background information, I guess. A few English numbers, I won't be bothering with those - don't give a rat's ass how he behaved over there, as long as plays nice on our side of the pond. If he was a real problem, there'd be a record. There isn't one."

"Any names you want me to run, send invitation to interview forms out to?"

"The landlord for his apartment- he's known him for six years, this former student and friend- Buffy Summers, and former student and friend- Xander Harris. Two on here I'd like to talk to, but they haven't known him long enough. This one, Tara Mac- wait. Tara Maclay, friend and employee." He turned his head from the file to the open screen on his computer. "That's his wife now."

"Ah, office romance." Judy said knowingly.

"Might be. I can't use her in the capacity of a reference now. Hm. You know, no one is harsher on a guy than his in-laws. Can you get me some numbers for her family?"

"Yep, give me the social." Judy took her pen from over her ear and reached for her ever present sticky note pad.

"Here, do invite forms for the ones with the check mark." He made some checks hurriedly on the reference list Giles had sent in, also putting a Wesley Wyndham-Pryce of Los Angeles, someone who had known him for several years but wasn't a citizen. He was the only one listed as "former colleague" however. The past can be an interesting place. "And her social's on the bottom. Thanks, Judy."

"When do you want this?"

He looked at the screen again. Low priority status. That never happened. Everything was average or high. That alone made him look a little longer. In addition, he was just a bit curious about the status change of Tara Maclay, friend and employee in July to wife by September. Not girlfriend and employee. Hmm, maybe he hadn't wanted to call her girlfriend on the original application. He didn't often get curious in his line of work, just skeptical. After twenty years in the department he had a "nose" for things. This didn't "smell" wrong, but it didn't feel entirely right either. "It's not a rush job, but let's say we get some forms sent out by the end of the week?"

* * *

"Hrm. W-would you like to get dinner tonight?" Giles balanced the till.

"Sure, what do you want me to pick up?" Tara restocked the jars of frequently purchased herbs that were kept on shelves behind the counter.

"Nothing. Would you like to go out?"

"Oh. Oh, sure." She was startled. He didn't formally ask her things like that often. Ever. "Are we taking Dawnie?"

"No, just us. If that's all right."

"Of course it's all right." Tara gave him an encouraging smile. "B-but I have a paper to work on so I can't stay out too late."

"That's fine. Where shall we go?"

"Italian sounds good."

"Italian it is."

"What's Italian?" Anya bustled in, putting a large box on the counter, making her friends jump. "This is that skull and bone refinishing kit we special ordered for Mr. Perkins. He called and said he'd come into pick it up. What's Italian? Are we going to have to pay import tax? Can't we find a national supplier?"

"Anya, dinner tonight. Dinner is Italian food." Tara calmed her with a laugh. "I'll call Mr. Perkins and tell him he can come get it now."

"Oh. Good. Thanks. Giles, why are you balancing the drawer, that's my favorite thing!" Anya turned her attention to her boss/ partner.

"Oh, look. A gang of silly looking high school girls is coming in. Try to steer them to the more harmless things, candles, positive energy crystals and oils." Giles set Anya on a small group of girls entering the shop, giggling and whispering. Her eyes lit up and she was off.

"I have to remember that." Tara murmured once Anya was out of earshot.

"It only works when customers are available to distract her." He muttered back, and they shared a laugh.

"Someplace fancy, or casual?" Giles asked as they moved back to their respective tasks.

"Casual. I- I'm sorry, I feel like I'm ruining a nice night out, but I also need to fill out forms for the DMV and the campus parking authority."

"Oh, hush. Doing necessary things is something I'm quite familiar with. We- um- we do have some other paper work to attend to. Banking. It's been over a month and my new statements have come in. I was wondering… should we bother creating joint accounts?"

_Bother? _"Bother?" She turned to him with quizzical eyes.

"Many couples don't have them." He said quickly. _And many couples have married for love and until death do them part, not necessity and friendship. It's all well and good to plan to stay together indefinitely… it just doesn't feel very permanent at times. These times. In the harsh light of a busy day filled with store chores and college what nots. _

"Oh." Tara's slight frown erased. "I guess not, yeah. Girl power, women's rights for financial equality."

"That's probably very important to you. I respect that. I admit I'm quite old-fashioned in some ways, but I would never expect you to-"

"I'm changing my name on my license." Tara blurted suddenly. "I already did with my bank and the school financial aid office. I- It might be old fashioned, but it might be- be a good idea if you- if you w-want a new name." She turned abruptly. "I- I need more rosemary and river stones. In the basement." She fled.

He hesitated. _Husbands would follow. In for a penny, in for a pound. _"Anya, mind the counter for a minute!"

Anya turned at the sound of his hurried call, in time to see the basement door swinging shut after Tara, and Giles heading over to it with determined steps. _Hm. Something's wrong. Or right. Or maybe just private. _

_ Still. That can be used to the advantage of all. _"The owner and his wife are newlyweds." Anya said significantly. Her already giggly clients turned near hysterical.

* * *

"I sh-should have asked you." Tara didn't look at him but she knew he was there, close behind her.

"No! Not at all, I just didn't want to presume!" Giles reached for her shoulder. Then stopped. "Look at me?"

She turned sideways, a half-smile on her slightly paler than usual face.

"I'm honored you like the name."

"I wasn't sure about switching at first." Tara explained. "Not that I don't like it! I just- I like Maclay, too. And- actually, I thought about changing it after… Well, after I came to Sunnydale for college. At home, being a Maclay isn't an awesome thing. You're instantly associated with your family- and you've met them." The smile turned wry and then the face turned down.

_And now I know more. So much more. The man who gave her the name sullied it, and she wants to lose the connection to him, without losing herself._ "No matter what the surname, you'll always be our Tara." _Mine and Willow's, and all of ours, her true family, a family made of friendship and love, not births and bloodlines. _"It's a beautiful name. So simple, but sweet. It would go beautifully with anything you choose."

"Thank you." She blinked hastily, cursing her over sensitive streak, so hyper emotional these days. "Anya told me that when you get married, you can just use the name, not legally change it."

"Anya did change hers. I remember."

"She loves Xander. Jenkins was a name she made up when she turned into regular mortal gal. Switching made sense for her."

"Does it make sense for you?" He asked softly.

A pause. "I don't have to give it back. You don't want things to end, or ch-change after you get your papers finalized with INS."

"I want you to stay as long as you're happy, you know that. I _want_ to make you happy." _I want to make you stay._

"You make me so happy. And I used to feel like I could never be happy again, and that if I would let it happen, it would be wrong. Because how can I ever be happy when Willow's gone?" She approached him, her arms full of ingredients, seeming to glide and sway the few steps to draw close to him.

"Understandable." _I felt the same, in a different way. I've felt that way so many times…_

"But I know she doesn't mind now. Because it's you and me. She trusts us. Loves us. Wants us to be happy. M-make each other happy."

_So very happy, strangely, contentedly happy. _ "It would make me exceedingly pleased if you used my name in whatever way you wish." _If you were to take it, and take me as well, I wouldn't hesitate to give you whatever you need._ He reached for the ingredients, letting their hands linger together. "I'll help you with your forms tonight, if you like. And we can keep our own accounts, and create a new joint one if we want. To- to save for things, like vacations back to Boston, or anywhere you like."

"Thank you." She blushed suddenly. The most understanding man. Calm and patient. Willow, as wonderful as she was, of course wasn't as mature. Tara loved Willow's bright, vibrant fire, but right now she loved finding another old soul to reassure her, let her lean on him._ An old soul with its own kind of fire, one you just had to move the ashes to send roaring back to life._ "Maybe all the forms can wait until tomorrow morning, and I can just finish my paper? In case we- we um- want to get some sleep. Early to bed?"

_Early to rise._ The rejoinder remained unspoken, as he heard an unintentional entendre. He almost rose right then. He cleared his throat, blushing, nodding. It had been a week and a few days since they did more than snuggle up to sleep. Not that he pressed or minded. Their last time of intimacy had been the night of the thunderstorm. Very intense, not only intimate in terms of the physical, but the mental, the emotional. "I'll help you with anything I can whenever you like, tomorrow, tonight, whenever suits you."

"You're a good friend. Good h-husband." She smiled.

"Thank you." His voice softened even further, hand reaching for hers. " I find it's very easy when-"

"Hey!" Anya's voice, an urgent hiss, interrupted from halfway up the stairs. "Moan or bang stuff, geez!"

"What?" Both of them addressed her in confusion, turning sharply.

"I have six girls upstairs who think you're having an interoffice quickie down here! Giles, you're not exactly a wimpy little specimen, you've got big shoulders and you're what- six feet tall? Make some noise, sheesh! Sell this thing!" She slammed out of the door calling, "Whoops! Didn't realize you were _busy_, Boss!"

Tara turned back to Giles, wide eyed and red-faced. "I know a silencing spell." She finally managed to croak.

"Mortifying as it is, she has a valid point." Giles groaned. "Not about the public disturbance, about 'selling it' a bit." After the frown creased his lips, he suddenly got a wickedly playful look on his face.

"Giles!" She giggled. "You're not really going to … make noises? 'Cause I can't. I- I can't. I mean- not here."

"Muss your hair a little?" He reached for her face hesitantly.

She speechlessly let him ruffle it- then reached out and ruffled his, and undid the top two buttons on his shirt.

"Put your dress off to the side."

"Huh?"

"Just scrunch it up, and over." He gestured vaguely.

"Oh. I get it." A mischievous twinkle danced in her eyes. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"I know."

"Is it bad that I'm kind of getting a kick out of the idea of seeing Anya's jaw drop if we come up looking like we just- yeah. Took her advice?"

"After all the times Anya leaves me staring and open-mouthed- terribly undignified looking, you know- I think it's time for a little pay back." He finished rumpling his shirt, untucking it half way, and then gave her a nudge. "Run. Giggle."

"I'm not a good actress." She hesitated, tripping lightly away but not giggling. _The only reason I thought we could ever do this was because we wouldn't have to "act" very much aside from the wedding pictures. _

"You don't have to be for this part." He leaned closer, almost resting his chin on her shoulder as they moved up the steps, whispering. "I think I've followed you up the stairs once or twice at home. And we've 'rumpled' each other on occasion." His voice dropped, almost shy sounding.

"True." Tara suddenly smiled at him, a glistening smile that was teasing and a little heartsore all at once. "This might actually make her stop talking for a couple minutes. Seconds, anyway. I hope Willow's watching this…"

* * *

"Should I put the television in a more convenient location?" Giles put their foil containers bearing their leftovers from the restaurant in the fridge. "I know you have paperwork to attend to tonight, but I imagine some nights you must want to watch a show?"

She shrugged. "Not big on television. Didn't have it at home."

"No television, no music. Your father's ideologies-"_ include drunkenly raping his daughter and also creating a charade that she is part demon in order to keep her subjugated._ Words died off in an angered huff. "I want you to have whatever you want to have here."

"Put on some music?" She asked.

"Of course." _Music on the record player. Wife working on scholarly pursuits. No patrolling for the evening, Slayer and family looked after…_ He marveled. _This wasn't supposed to happen for me._ He smiled._ I'm glad it did._

* * *

"Can I help you with anything?" Giles asked about thirty minutes later, emerging from the bedroom in baggy and faded sleep pants and teeshirt. As he descended, he watched Tara typing away on her laptop.

"Not with this. This is boring stuff. But, um, when I was at the store today, I did look up a variant on the spell I - the one I mentioned?"

His brows knitted, then relaxed. His stomach felt uncomfortably tight. A variant on the healing balm. "Oh, yes?"

"Can you help me make some more lotion tomorrow night, and then we have to do the spell and let it sit for three days or more. I don't think it gets refrigerated though."

He laughed, the tightness leaving. "Of course we can work on it this week."

"It keeps once it's made! We don't have to use it. I don't have to make it at all if you don't want me to." She quickly reassured. _Because no one wants their worst moments probed, even when it's like cutting open a wound to let out what's infected inside. Hurts but it'll heal better._ "I- um- I think massages can be just for the fun of it." _Wait. That makes it sound like I don't take it seriously, right? But I _do_ take it seriously! _"Not that I had fun last time! I did, b-but, not fun, fun. I mean, I enjoyed the good parts." She frantically babbled, then shushed herself.

Giles hesitated, then came and sat beside her on the couch. Quiet to collect his thoughts and say it as best he could, he soon spoke softly. "It's enjoyable when we're close to one another."

"Yes. Very." She closed her laptop in favor of taking his warm, supple hands.

"I know that every time we get close, you risk the danger of triggering unwanted pains and memories. My triggers are not like that, so… I think I admire you sharing yourself with me more than I will ever regard my opening up to you."

"It's equal, Giles. It really is." She leaned forward, tipping her head down to catch his downcast, reflective eyes. "Just different pains, different places, different causes. Still needs someone to make it better."

Her bowing head and her soft, sweet words were too much to forebear. He leaned forward in a very chaste kiss on the lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She whispered, and kissed him back.

* * *

"I want to be ready." She was wrapped in his arms, their sheets, their kisses.

"Let me make you comfortable." He slid down her legs like sliding down a pole, seamlessly for his age and injuries.

_ And oh God, he made her beyond comfortable._ "Rupert, stop." She moaned within seconds.

Like a bolt of electricity had hit him in the spine, he shuddered to a halt, up, off of her, sitting back in a perplexed but non-threatening position.

"I'm so sorry, Darling, I didn't mean to." He said fervently, reaching for her hand, but carefully.

"Rupert, come here." She reached for him, pulled him to herself, surprising him. "I meant stop because… because I was already comfortable. I didn't want you to think you had to get me 'ready'. If I weren't ready, I wouldn't try."

"Oh. Oh, thank heavens." He let out trapped air.

"It's nice to see how you can stop if you're asked." Tara did appreciate that. And hated it, all at once. "I'm so sorry it's weird. It was weird between Willow and me, too. S-sometimes."

_That isn't her fault, but she's wise enough to understand that. _He nodded and rubbed his cheek to hers, and to her shoulder, hugging and cradling as she initiated.

"I might not be ready for everything. But I'm ready for _more_."

"You don't have to be. I know I don't have to say it, but please let me." He cut off her protest. "It makes me feel better to know that I'm doing everything I should. Everything I would want any woman, or man, to do for you."

She grinned. "You are one amazing guy, Rupert Giles."

He went all bashful looking, but it was that mature semi-shyness that looked quite handsome on him. "Thank you."

"Are you, y'know- ready for a little more?" Tara gave him the same courtesy, the tentativeness before the abandon.

"Completely ready." He whispered through jaws that were all at once clenched. The idea of getting more, and becoming more intimate with her, was making him pulse and swell. He wouldn't last long if they did achieve full coupling, and he was a bit worried about that in the back of his mind.

"Okay. Then- we don't have to do anything special. I'm comfortable." She stroked his cheek. "It's nice. To feel safe."

* * *

He relaxed, and she did as well. He believed it was because even though she told him she was ready, he acted as though they were not going to proceed any differently than they had before. And her kisses and embraces, sweet touches, were all so wonderful, he had no need of anything else to pleasure him.

So natural. So beautiful. The way she arched against him, hugged her arms around his shoulders and he felt her reach down to guide him.

"I love you." He tried not to buck against her hand, fearful of jabbing in.

"I love you." She slid her mouth across his as her hand slipped him into her, nice and shallow.

One hand went under her back, to lift her bottom, and let her take him more deeply if she swung her hips forward.

With a painful catch of her breath, she did push ahead. Whimpered and groaned, and stopped.

"Love?"

"Big."_ Oh wow. So big._ The head, with the extra layer of skin bulged in her tight canal.

"I'm sorry." He comforted, holding still. _Not something one usually has to apologize for…_

_He's apologizing for the way he's made, and he's made just fine, more than fine. _"That's going to feel really good one day." She clutched at him, willing him to just remain resting in her, no more, no less.

_That makes it sound as if we will keep practicing, keep trying. Like the other aspects of our relationship, gradually going a little deeper at a time._ "Indeed. For now, right here, Darling."

"Mmm, stay."

"I will! This feels amazing to me. You?" His voice was a tad strangled, but he hoped not too desperate sounding.

"Good." _But he gets bigger_. She could feel him widening slightly at her entrance. _Oh duh. Wow, wait to sound inexperienced._ She realized that was the bell-shaped flare at the end of his crown, just that it was concealed by his foreskin until pushing it back against her insides. _But then_\- she remembered the feel of him in her hands, her mouth, her outside-_ he keeps getting wider towards the base._

She felt a little light headed. _No other memories allowed. _That_ was not a sex thing, or a love thing. This is not a boy-girl thing, not a man-woman thing. _This_ is a Giles and me thing. No other memories._

They still surged in, unwanted. Hard. Stabbing. Sharp. Angry, almost inhuman eyes above her, hurting her. She blinked back a sudden tear.

_This isn't like that. _Her smile bloomed under her tears as someone chased those dark thoughts away. Warm. Thick. Resting, waiting, working with her, not forcing. Above her, passionate, loving eyes, someone shielding her, protecting her. Letting any arrows and slings of life that might come fall on his already torn and broken back.

"Oh God, I do love you." She gasped with new realization, and slid until the first thickness popped into her. She cried out softly, a surprised sound with notes of strain and pleasure attached.

"Ohh. Oh Lord, yes." He breathed. He throbbed in her, twitching. "Sorry."

"You need to move, too."

"I wanted to wait until you wanted it." Giles assured.

"Just this much?"

"Uh-huh."

"This is only the tip, Darling, that and another inch, give or take." He felt he should point out.

So about two inches? And there were more, it felt like many, many more, until they would be joined fully, hips to hips. "More is okay." She offered, but she really didn't feel confident in saying it.

He moved forward slightly, she moved back. A tentative half-push. "Unn." A gentle noise of strain from her lips against her ear.

_But she's soaking against me. And I'm gentle. Aren't I gentle? Dammit, it's been too long since I actually did this, maybe…_ Doubts vocalized. "Too much?"

"No…" _He feels so good. And it's him, he's - wow, he's turning into my best friend. I was so lonely, and so sad, and lost_.

_Nothing changed with missing Willow, loving Willow. I just have someone to do it with, and feel better with. T_ara reached up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and grabbed on, clinging._ I was her anchor… I need one of my own now. _

She pushed too hard. He felt the resistance and yet he didn't know what to do. _Her choices, I'm here to help. I promised on our honeymoon, when we were both so pained, that I would do whatever she needed me to do._

_ But I shouldn__'t let her push herself. I shouldn't push away, either. _"You feel wonderful, just like this." He caressed her back, could feel the lower part of her spine surrounded by tense muscles. "Stages, love? Perhaps we should…"

"I don't want you to think I can't because of- other things." She whispered.

"I won't think that." He promised. "But I do think that when we make love, in whatever way we choose, it should be- effortless." He tilted her head back. "The way I feel around you. Very free. Peaceful."

This was about wanting him. Wanting to try.

Just because you don't climb the entire mountain in one night doesn't mean you're not climbing, that you stopped trying or wanting. "Wise man." She relaxed, and he entered a bit more, then stopped, stuck tight unless he pushed.

_And we don't push each other._ Tara smiled up at him. "There's l-lots of good nerve endings there. In the f-front."

"On the upper wall. I remember." He withdrew, hastily apologizing when he saw the look of disappointment rush across her face before she could hide it. "Oh, no! No, I'm not finished, unless you are."

"I'm not!"

"It's a bit difficult to gauge how much I'm- how much we're-"

"You don't want to slide in too far?" She blushed.

"Parts of you still feel a bit tight. It shouldn't feel like I'm forcing my way in." Eyes darted and held. "We don't do that."

"Would it be easier to stop?" She bit her lip.

"No. No, if you could just… if we could try a different position it might be easier to control the depth, and both of us rest." _No holding myself back, no holding her up._

"What one? Show me."

Not a tremor of doubt or hesitation in her voice, almost relieved eagerness. "We start by letting me wrap my arms around you." He did, her back to his chest as he rolled behind her. They both sighed contentedly.

The key to a happy marriage is good communication and compromise, he thought as he kissed her shoulder.

* * *

His hand cupped one breast as his strong forearm held fast across her ribs. The other was down between her thighs as her top leg rested over his hip. The top hand kneaded and rolled a nipple, milking it as she moaned, the other hand was busy at the spread of her lips.

She reached down, enjoying the play of their fingers against each other, soft moans as she felt the tip and bit more gulping in and out of her pussy with wet sounds.

His fingers pleasured her, rubbing and kneading her bead with the pressure and speed she'd shown him were her preference. Her hands, always so soft and generous, reached down past their joining spot and ran teasingly up and down his shaft. At one point she reached a little lower and rubbed the filling, hard sack at the base, making him curse heatedly as he softly bit her neck.

"Good?" She giggled, knowing it must've been by his reaction.

"Very." He hissed. Women didn't often remember to attend to the "accessories". Or maybe he'd never been with a woman who had such a caring and thorough manner.

"I thought these might be off limits. 'Cause if you kick guys there, it's a big deal." She touched him again. Firm yet full.

"Sensitive indeed. And a kick - yes, a big deal. A touch like yours is amazing."

"Should I be giving these attention when I… when we use mouths?" She asked.

_I have no idea what I've done to deserve this woman_. "If you enjoy it, they're yours." Giles answered wonderingly. He twitched inside her and to his delight that earned a moan of pleasure, not a gasp of surprise or pain.

"More."

He increased the pace of his hips rocking to hers, enjoying the warm curves of her rear pillowing him, the lush breasts bouncing softly against his arm. He almost came then, watching this tantalizing show, but stopped with the thought that he benefitted so much more than she did from this partnering. "I wish I could give you the sort of beautiful sights you give me." Giles whispered against her ear.

Intuitively she knew what was going through his mind. The idea that his male body wasn't exciting or pleasing to her._ When in reality… _She ran her hand down his side._ It's a beautiful one. Handsome. I appreciate it. I like it. And the soul inside it is amazing. _

"You could." Tara murmured back, craning her neck to gaze at him. "All you have to do is get where I can see you better."

It had been a long time since he felt like something other than the old man, unattractively senior and stodgy to those around him, not that he was vain. Her words, which were always honest, made some rush of masculine pride soar back. Giles turned her head a bit more, leaning forward to capture her mouth hungrily, gratefully, believing her.

Grunting, shifting, hurrying so they didn't lose their momentum, they made another turn, the same side by side position with her hip over his and him shallowly penetrating her. This time they were face to face.

_I'm getting good at this. I can tell when she's about to let go. _Giles forced his eyes to remain open, watching hers close. Her face took on a concentrated look, and feeling her hold herself down on him, one hand frantically pressing her distended nub as she clenched.

He wasn't prepared for the sensation of her orgasming on his sensitive head.

She wasn't prepared for the sensation of cumming with him filling her, tight inside her, even a small amount of him. She screamed, long and breathy, and made a noise that Giles had never heard her make before, a muffled, hoarse exclamation that seemed to come right from her chest.

"Oh bloody hell. _Fuck_!" He couldn't help it, groaning, pulling out, shooting hard and instantly, grabbing her by the back of the neck to put his head to hers, panting against her. Wanted her to feel it, connect her to the pleasure she gave.

Her lips grabbed onto his, then over his sweating hairline, down his jaw, back to his lips. "Love you. Thank you, that was… so good."

"Yes, love you, so thankful for you."

A moment just to breathe, to try to regain coherent speech followed. "We did it." Tara was glowing. For the moment, there was no "almost", or "partially". Only success.

It felt like triumph for him as well. "It was magnificent. Well, _you_ were." He nuzzled to her again.

"You, too." She struggled to sit up. Ooh. A little tender there. But happy, good kind of tender.

"Are you all right?" He sat up with her.

"Mmhmm." She giggled. "I'm giggly, though."

"Happy." He kissed her brow and rose, with a groan of his own, grabbing his hip. "The euphoria fades."

"We could go limp to the shower together." She suggested.

Giles nodded. Then paused. "I doubt you'll believe this."

"What?"

"I haven't ever taken a shower with someone else."

"I haven't either. Dorm showers are not exactly private." Tara blushed. "I meant just to get cleaned up. Cooled off."

"Not romantic in nature?" He had made assumptions, and he felt instantly regretful, in case he'd taken something innocent and made it sexual.

"N-not _this _time." The blush deepened. "Only 'cause I'm…"

His face became grave. "Are you hurt?"

"No! No, I promise. Just not up for round two." She licked her lips, staring at him steadily. "Not _tonight_, anyway."

_But there's always more chances now. My assumptions were correct, though the timing might not have been. _He got her robe from over the wardrobe door and held it for her as she slid into it. "Then I look forward to other nights, more rounds."

"Me, too."

* * *

_Closer_

They practiced magic in the evenings. She sat next to him during research. Her new license bore his name. Their new checkbooks bore both of theirs. She said "Tara Giles" when she had to give her name over the phone at the store one day later in the week, and the Scooby gang, crashing there after Buffy's training and before patrolling began, sat frozen.

Tara hung up the phone and stopped short at the cluster of faces staring at her. "What?" Tara asked, head tilted.

"Tara Giles?" Spike raised his eyebrows slowly.

"It has a nice ring to it." Dawn glared at her "brother" warningly.

"They have to make it official." Anya rolled her eyes.

Re-signed leases, health insurance cards, college forms, all of the "official" things told the world they were married.

"I like the name. And Anya's got a point." Tara turned from them, polishing the counter busily.

"Just finished!" A breathless voice called from the training area. Tara smiled at Giles when he emerged from the training room, sweating, shirt sleeves rolled up. Buffy followed, not sweating at all, beelining for Spike. Tara moved towards her spouse, a water bottle held out.

"The phone company called. They added the third line." Tara explained by way of greeting.

"Oh, thank you, Darling." Giles took the bottle and absently kissed her lips as he walked past. "I'll get that scroll and then we can head over to Buffy's."

Tara nodded. "I have to get my purse." She followed.

* * *

"Did anyone else see that?" Xander blinked after them.

"Did he just-"

"They just-"

"Kissed. On the _lips." _Buffy looked surprised.

"That wasn't official business at all." Anya sounded thoughtful. "They just wanted to." Xander opened his mouth, and she hissed, "Shh. They're going to be right back. No one say anything!"

"Not like we're criticizin'." Spike muttered moodily.

"But she and Willow?" Xander sounded thoroughly shocked.

"What part of don't say anything didn't you get?" Dawn shook his arm. "Come on, let's wait outside. We're heading outside!" Dawn yelled toward the back office. She pulled on Xander, Anya trotted out, and Spike slouched out moodily.

Buffy hung back, silent. Thoughts whirled through her mind.

_Willow's only been gone a few months!_

_ They were friends, just friends, there was no kissing. No real kissing._

_ Tara__… I mean- lesbian!_

_ Giles is old. Not creepy old, but old. Wait, my boyfriend__'s dead. So… scratch that. _

"Buffy? What's wrong?" Giles returned, scroll in hand, Tara behind him, digging in her purse for something.

"Nothing!" She blurted, very unconvincingly.

"That's definitely 'something' voice." Tara said soothingly. "Is it Dawnie?"

"Just saw something that confused me." Buffy mumbled.

"Hm? Related to the Suvolte we've been hearing rumors of?"

"No. Not that. Something weird. But- but it's an okay thing. It's not a bad thing. I just don't get it." She stared at him hard. _He doesn't know what I mean. He didn't even realize he kissed her in front of us. Which probably means it's been happening for awhile, or he's just so comfortable- and she was too. Or she would have said something._

"This is going to sound weird, but here it goes. So, instead of just being married, are you two- 'together'?" Buffy asked bluntly.

Tara flushed. Giles looked to her, but her mouth wasn't forming words, just moving hesitantly as if about to speak, then falling closed again. "Buffy, that's a difficult question."

"Not really." Buffy swallowed around the odd tension in her throat.

"Not the same as other couples." Tara finally whispered.

"I'm afraid we can't be." Giles patted Tara's shoulder comfortingly. "We didn't choose to be together for attraction or desire."

"Still love each other. While we're busy loving people who aren't here anymore." Tara shrugged helplessly.

The thought that this was some kind of betrayal to Willow prickled Buffy, even though she knew that wasn't true. _She can't have Willow back. Giles can't have Ms. Calendar back, and he didn't really date anyone else. Lonely people_.

_I remember that feeling_. "I know Willow isn't around." She began, but couldn't find the conclusion to the thought.

"I still love Willow!" Tara's voice trembled, and Buffy felt like she'd slapped her gentle friend.

"I know, I'm sorry, I _do_ know that!" Buffy looked helplessly at Giles, but it was Tara who continued to speak.

"Willow can't be here. I don't think she wants me to replace what we had. I don't think she wants me to have nothing at all."

"Agree, totally. She'd want you to have someone who loves you." Again, she looked at Giles.

"I love Tara." He gripped her hand. "It's not the way others love, perhaps, but we have something."

Buffy nodded slowly. "I'm … surprised?" she offered hesitantly. To her further surprise, and her relief, they both laughed.

"So are we!" Tara exclaimed, shaking her head. "But," her face turned to Giles' , "we're happy, too. We thought it would be okay…"

"And it's so much more."

"You're finishing each other's thoughts." Buffy pointed out.

"We're surprisingly well suited to one another." Giles informed her drily. "You pointed that out."

"Slayer! Come _on!_" Spike's head popped back through the door, a snarl on his lips. "Your sister is threatenin' to drive, and I'm considerin' lettin' her just so we can get this bloody show started!"

"One minute! Go- buckle her into the back and tell her she can pick the station or something." Buffy waved him away, and he left with a growl, banging the door behind him.

"I guess the others were w-wondering too." Tara said, eyes dropping. _Not ashamed. Just private. I don't want them to think I got over Willow, or that I suddenly like guys. It's not about getting over, it's not about finding someone else. It's about Giles. About being part of an "us"._

"The kiss kind of did some mind blowing." Buffy shrugged. "Anya said not to say anything, but I- hey, you know I have failure to listen issues, right?" Her Watcher nodded to the heavens. "I don't think anyone minds. Just no one expected."

"Including ourselves." Giles ushered her toward the door. "Aside from the occasional quiet display of affection, I don't imagine it will even be noticeable."

"No making out in public." Tara managed to laugh as she followed Buffy through the door.

* * *

The group split into various vehicles, all heading to the same place. Spike drove, Dawn yapped and sang along loudly to the station she was torturing them with, and Buffy was quiet.

"Slayer? What'd they say?" Spike muttered in an undertone.

"They have a together thing. They might do some occasional PDAs, but it'll be on the mild side." Buffy explained softly.

"That's fair, init? Two people, thrown together, getting a bit of comfort and companionship?"_ Like we said. Like we did, at first._

"No. I mean, yeah, I get that. I'm just wondering something, and then I'm trying not to wonder something, and then if I think too hard I feel both grossed out and guilty." She twisted her hair.

"Out with it before you go bald." He sighed.

She hesitated. "If they kiss sometimes in public- the part of my brain in charge of bad questions I shouldn't ask wonders- what are they doing in private?"

He coughed. "Whatever you're thinking, you're probably on the right track. But unless you want to think about Red's bird and the Watcher taking their pain out on a mattress-"

"Stop! Stopstop." Buffy held up a protesting hand. "I don't like to think of any of my friends like that."

"Then tell your brain to give it a rest."

Buffy nodded hurriedly. "As long as they're happy."

Spike pulled into the driveway. "Probably give Rupes' application a shot in the arm, too. Come interview time."

"What are we talking about?" Dawn asked as they motor shut off, taking the radio with it.

"How the fact that Tara and Giles aren't just playin' house, but actually are startin' to go for each other." Spike replied. "Probably look good when the INS people come to call."

They got out of the car, the first ones in the house, the other cars filling the drive and street behind them.

"Are they going to ask questions like that? I thought it was more about proving they didn't have a phony wedding." Dawn looked between her sibling/parent figures.

Spike shrugged and began to make up some answer when Buffy cut him off with a surprised sound. "What's wrong?"

She was holding up something from the pile of mail on the hall table. "What were you asking, Dawnie? About interview questions?"

"Yeah. Why- what is that?"

By this time, the others were crowding into the hall, and Buffy sat on the bottom step, tearing open the envelope.

"Why the face? Is that a bill?" Anya demanded. "Are you following the budget I gave you?"

"No… It's from Mr. Sabatini- he's the guy in charge of your case." She looked at Giles, who frowned.

"That's news to us. We haven't even been told of our specific liaison. What does he say?"

"That someone will contact me shortly and I should be prepared to spend up to two hours with this Sabatini guy. I've been 'invited' to give a reference interview on behalf of Rupert Giles, applicant for US citizenship."

* * *

_To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

**Union**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ A story about love, but maybe not about romance. A sweet little piece about two gentle people who love each other without being in love, trying to overcome regrets, fear, and loneliness in order to keep what's left of their lives together. Completely AU, after season five._

_Author's Note: It's a piece about Tara and Giles. I never imagined I would write such a piece, but the idea would not leave alone until it was written. If you find that wrong, bad, or in someway worth getting upset over, please stop reading. I don't write to make people sad, I write because I love it and I like to share what's in my head with people who are looking to enjoy a flight of fancy. _

_**Author's Second Note**__: Union won awards at Sunnydale Memorial! First place for Best angst and Best Unconventional Pairing! Thank you so much for voting. You guys are the best. _

_Author's Third Note: Sexual content warning._

_Dedicated to AGriffinWriter, ValidescopeWest, Writerdragonfly, TieDyeJackson, JustJane18, and Ginar369. Thank you for continuing to cheer me on! _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** X**

_Rehearsal_

"This isn't going to help."

"Do you want Giles to get kicked off the continent?" Dawn snapped and glared over a clipboard.

"Dawnie." Tara's gentle voice admonished.

"No, that's a really good point. And we're all thinking it." Xander paced behind Buffy, who sat stiffly in a dining room chair across from her sister.

"He's going to blame himself if Giles is deported. Why'd they only ask you and Xander?" Anya said petulantly, sitting in another chair, next to Tara, a calculator and ledger from the shop open in front of her. "I'm his business partner. If you can't trust your business partner, who can you trust? Plus, I'm an amazing liar."

"Those are two extremely contradictory statements." Giles refused to sit through this exercise in lunacy, standing against the doorway, glasses off and hanging in one hand while his arms crossed. Now his free hand came up to massage his temple. "Spike! Can you bring aspirin with the tea?"

"I'm not the errand boy!" Spike snarled from the kitchen. A pause. A rattle. "Niblet, where's the bloody aspirin for the man on trial?"

"He's not on trial!" Buffy cried as her sister replied,

"Cabinet over the toaster!"

"Ask the first question, Dawnie." Tara encouraged._ Let's get this over with. And maybe it won't go so badly._

"Right. Buffy, you first, then Xander." Dawn tried to look stern. Xander moaned and started another lap of the dining room. "Eh-hem. When did Tara and Giles meet?"

"In the fall, two years ago. It was the fall semester, and we were all over at Giles' house. Willow brought Tara over and introduced us, and she's been part of the - family- ever since."

"Good- if you immediately want them to ask 'who's Willow?'." Dawn glared.

"Why shouldn't they ask about her?" Giles' voice was gentle. "It's not going to be a secret, Dawn. It will come out that Tara has had a relationship with a woman."

"Are we passing that off as college experimentation?" Xander asked nervously. This was making him ill. He could barely deal in a world without Willow. Acting like she hadn't been with Tara was too much. Tara and Willow- it was something that identified Tara to him. It made her Willow's, which made her part of the Scoobies, which now made her- well, his. Lying about how she got there seemed too wrong to contemplate.

Tara heard the anger, undirected, sadness-fueled anger in his voice. "No. It's not going to be like that."

"Why don't you guys answer this one?" Dawn turned to Tara and Giles, now standing behind her, hand on the top rung of her ladder back chair. "Really, Willow introduced you two? Tell me about Willow."

"Think this is rubbing salt in the wound." Spike muttered, setting down a handful of mugs and slamming down a bottle of pills before stalking back to the kitchen.

"Willow Rosenberg was one of my absolute favorite students when I was employed by Sunnydale High School." Giles answered, ignoring everything around him, focusing on the question, trying to picture a phantom interviewer instead of this well-intentioned charade. "She was one of the highest achieving students I've ever met, and extremely bright and gifted in various areas that were mutually interesting. Or not, as it turned out. She was wonderful with computers." He grinned suddenly, seeing the sixteen year old version of her, knee socks and baggy sweaters, typing away. "I'm not. She became my library assistant on many occasions when the school wanted to move to computerization of the card catalog. We stayed in touch when she began attending the local college. I'd lost my job at the school when there was a fire, and I had plenty of free time. I enjoyed getting to see my former students and cultivate some of my other interests. Eventually I opened a store, one which catered to both of us, and Willow became a frequent customer of my magic and occult shop in town. She was a student of the wiccan arts."

"Let me come in." Tara interrupted softly, passing the story naturally, without any hesitation or awkwardness, something Dawn imagined would impress any interviewer because it was so clearly genuine. "That's how I met Willow. We were both students of - of wiccan arts." She faltered. "There was a group on campus. I was already a member, I'm- I was, a year ahead of her in college, so she was a freshman and I was a sophomore. We were the only two people taking it seriously. She introduced me to Giles, and I got a part-time job at his store. She and I… we were dating until she passed away in May."

There were figures reaching for tissues and handkerchiefs.

"What sort of bastard asks people questions like this?" Xander savagely muttered, pausing to scrub at his eyes.

"Government bastards." Spike tossed a bag of cheap store bought cookies on the table. "Sugar helps."

"So- okay. Um. You were involved with a girl, I mean, woman, before you married Mr. Giles?" Dawn pushed on, earning glares from some, but nods from Giles and Tara. "I have to ask! What if_ he_ asks? Won't he ask?"

"I'm attracted to people, not genders." Tara stated simply. It might have been a lie- if Giles hadn't made that true.

"And her sexual preferences prior to our relationship are her own business. Willow was a wonderful person and I knew her while she dated her first boyfriend, and Tara, her first girlfriend. I am well aware of my wife's romantic history and we're not ashamed of it."

"Oooh, say it just like that." Anya enthused. "All steely and British upper crust. You'll make the interviewer pee his pants."

"Are we done yet?" Buffy shifted nervously in her chair. "Can't I go face something huge, evil, and scary? I think it would be more fun. And what else can this guy ask us that is more important than that? If we can answer the big question like Giles and Tara just did, we're good to go, right?"

"You're a character reference for me, Buffy. Not simply the marriage. Go on, Dawn."

"Right, um… Oh, yeah. Describe your relationship with Giles." Buffy opened her mouth. "This one is for Xander, you already had a turn."

"My relationship? We've never done anything!" Xander tripped over the fringe of the dining room rug, startled.

"Not that sort of relationship, you twit." Spike put his head in his hands.

"Well I got confused with all the gender and sexual partner stuff!" Xander felt his heart rate go down and coughed. "Giles is like my dad. No, better, because my dad is a horrible guy who likes to point out people's failures and kick puppies for fun. Giles is _better _than a father to me. He was one of the- no, wait, he was the_ only_ teacher in high school I ever learned anything from, and that I actually liked. And that liked me, or even cared if I tried. He's the only teacher I ever cracked a book for. Studied or did research for. He's my friend. I'm glad he still is. We didn't lose touch after high school, because he was one of those people that doesn't just care about you if you're their responsibility." Xander looked at Buffy._ I helped her. So he helped me. But he never had to. I wasn't "chosen" or anything. In fact, I was the most un-chosen guy in that school._ "He's a cool guy. Tara's a cool girl. Willow was my best friend, we grew up together, and that makes Tara like my- like part of my family. Giles is like part of my family, way better actually, if you knew my family." A bitter laugh. "I'm glad they have each other, and that I have them. That's it."

Silence.

"Xander." Giles put his glasses on for the mere physical tic of being able to take them off and polish them when he needed to stall his emotions. "That was extremely kind an-and well said." He coughed.

"I need more tissues." Buffy blurted and grabbed a handful, then the cookies.

"Wow." Anya was looking at her husband with big, dreamy eyes. "I love when you get all eloquent. Dawn, how much longer does this fake interview take?"

* * *

"That wasn't as productive as I hoped. But it was good." Tara and Giles drove home in his car.

"We have wonderful friends. Very kind." He swallowed. "Thank you."

"Hm?" Tara, lost in her own thoughts for a second didn't know if she'd missed something. "Thank me?"

"Because of you, I have the best chance of remaining with these people. The people we love." It struck him afresh. "And you did this, so recently after such a loss." Hearing the questions and responses bluntly articulate a timeline made him appreciate anew that she had the most resilient spirit, sacrificial heart. He loved her more, and hadn't known that the love could not only increase, but dig down deeper. "You truly are miraculous." He murmured.

"I knew it wasn't like moving on, or letting her go. I was just mourning with someone, in a different place." She admitted. "I didn't know you'd start to make the pain go away. Sh-should it go away this fast?" Tara bit her lip guiltily.

"Perhaps the pain part, not the longing for, the missing her part." Giles offered gently.

"Okay. Good. I really don't think she'll mind. When I see her again."

"Ah. Yes." _And in this life, I have her for now. I someday will let her go, and back to Willow she'll fly, two spirits, intertwined. Lovely. Poetic. _

_ Lonely. For me. _

_ Don't be selfish, Rupert. _

Tara suddenly felt the sadness wafting from him. Like looking at his aura only _without_ looking at it. Reading him by proximity, something she had rarely been able to do before, only with those closest to her, and only infrequently. She reached over and put her hand on his wrist. "Someone waits for you." She whispered.

_Jenny. Yes, perhaps._ "I hope so."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Darling." A brave smile. "Our vows were not made with the same intents of the majority of couples, I'm well aware."

"I said until death do us part." Tara reminded him simply. "I did say it."

_She would fill up my life. That's gift enough, and more than can be reasonably expected, yet she gives it. _"Thank you. Again."

* * *

_Thankful hearts_

"it's been a very taxing evening." He followed her up the stairs to their shared room.

"Mmhmm." Aching and sad, but pride-inducing, love-instilling._ I am married to a man who inspires such loyalty, such love. He never asks for it. Sometimes he doesn't get it, receive what he needs, where it hurts, and hides the pains as well. Just as loyal to them, just as loving. _

Her heart fluttered a little bit. _I love him too._ She looked at him discreetly, undressing for bed over by the wardrobe, his back turned, even after making love and seeing every part of her, still preserving modesty unless invited to do otherwise. _Even though-_ she watched the back briefly emerge before he yanked a white undershirt that served as nightwear over his head- _to Rupert, turning his back literally means exposing the most private part of himself. _

"I love you." Her small voice startled him, made him half-turn as he slid his legs into the plain cotton sleep pants he wore.

"I love you." Giles quickly fixed his clothing and turned to find her in nothing, just holding one of her long tee shirts that served as a nightgown across her body, barely covering from breasts to thighs. "Did I- I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable in the car." Something was unusual about the way she held herself. Like she was waiting, nervous and yet assured at once.

"More comfortable. Not in the car. In what we did this afternoon and tonight." She moved one arm slightly, cradling her own full bust, head dipping. _We're loving. So good together, kind to one another. Thankful for something we couldn't have dreamed of two months ago. Never asks me. Or pushes me._ She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, legs curled up to the side of her, still looking at him.

_Like a river nymph, and the bed is her rock. _He pulsed inside, stepping near her. "Yes. It's amazing how listening to someone else renews your awareness of another person, listening to how others see them. Realizing just how strong, and loving, a person is."

"That's what I was thinking. About you." She smiled, the small, shy half-smile that wasn't actually about shyness as much as knowing, and being careful not to frighten others with her knowledge.

_Wise, alluring nymph._ Giles pulsed again. He stepped closer, moving to her side of the bed. She waited. His hand reached out by itself and traced her cheek, the edge of that mysteriously sweet smile.

Tara turned her cheek into his hand with something like longing._ Touch me. He should be able to tell me what he wants, and needs and I want to give it to him. Comfort. Thank. Love._

"It wasn't an easy night." His voice was tense, and his hand lingered. _Please tell me. Invite me. Expressly, I need to show that I never will press you to give what you should keep. No obligation, no falsely charged emotions. _"Please…" One half-breathed word, all he could begin with, because he didn't know which one of a dozen sentences should conclude his plea.

"Please." She nodded, eyes softly drawing him in.

"No, no, I- I must ask you." He heard himself saying, mind spinning lazily as he fell into her gaze.

"I want to… I feel safe. Not about 'no' anymore. Not with you." Her eyes were suddenly bright, and they lost their hypnotic snare.

"You don't want me to ask you?" This wasn't allowable.

"Right now, I want you to tell me. Because you trust me, and I trust you. And I love you."

He knelt, hand now in hers, still not quite feeling that this moment was concrete. "I would like to make love with my Tara."

"I want you to." Her smile suddenly bloomed on both cheeks, not just the half-grin she'd been sharing. "Tell me again?"

"I want to make love with my wife." This wasn't a game. This was… what was this?

"Come here." She dropped the shirt to her lap, revealing those luscious breasts.

He obeyed, head to her softness, hand to cup one as it heaved suddenly at his touch.

Waiting. "I only want what you want." He whispered finally.

"I want you trust me. Be able to tell me things."

"I confide in you more than any other."

"You always wait to make sure the other person doesn't feel too much, see too much. You know why they love you like crazy, even if it freaks you out a little bit to have all these 'youngsters' all over you? It's not because you're the rock, Giles. I mean, it is that, but it's not_ just _that. They love you because they know you don't have a rock of your own, but you'll be one for them."

"I- really?" He blinked, hearing her say something he never knew, and yet it made him feel like a piece of crucial knowledge just slotted itself in where it had always belonged._ Have I been blind? _

"That's what I heard them say. In all the stories, in every answer. And none of them were made up…"

"They're my rocks. And you." The surprising touchstone he'd crashed into when he was out of reach of the others, finding something to hold onto and pull himself up once more.

Someone's rock? No. Comforter. Balance, center even, but nothing so solid and un-shaking. "I'm never the strong one." She protested.

"You're always the strong one." He refuted.

A deep breath, "I _want_ to be that for you. So you could tell me what you want, and need, and I'm not afraid of giving it to you. The good man doesn't make bad requests."

In so serious a moment, Giles cursed himself for "impure" thoughts. He was a well-read, imaginative man, with a battery of hedonistic creativity behind him. He could make a thousand 'bad requests'. Not unpleasant or unkind ones, though not exactly run-of-the-mill.

"Rupert." She put her forehead to the gray head on her chest with a giggle. "I could feel that."

"What? I - did I do something?" _Heaven forbid- did I _say _something?_

"Naughty mind." She giggled again. "But it's okay. That's what I mean. You had a thought and you worried it wouldn't be what I wanted, so you didn't share it. You are my very, very wonderful friend. And lover." She kissed him twice lightly on the forehead, before tilting his chin up, smiling into his smile.

"Let me be those things in a tangible way then." He lightly cupped her shoulders and leaned her back. For a split second he wondered if this would make her feel "pushed" or "pinned" and then relaxed as she fell with a supple flex of her spine._ Trust is precious indeed._ "Ahh. My beautiful gift." He ran his eyes caressingly over her now uncovered form.

"Mine is still in the wrapper." She teased, plucking at the waistband of his trousers, and turned out their bedside lamp.

* * *

Rocking together, partially inserted, sometimes not, hands, mouths, all together, bringing her to slow peaks, and making him painfully full and tight to the touch.

"Go ahead." Tara encouraged.

"Soon." He gasped. He didn't enter her again. He felt himself engorged from plenty of pleasuring lately, and more often than not holding onto release for a very long time, at his own choice, of course. She still only accepted the first inch or two of him before he felt pressure, not the physical but the mental kind. As relaxed as she was, there was a moment when she strained to move forward on him and waited for the answering thrust- and he never complied._ Because there should be no strain, only soft, slippery passage into a new phase of this union._ "I'll just… dammit, it's just taking its time to build." He hissed against her skin.

"Hmm. Maybe we could speed it up if you tell me a 'bad request'."

"Tara!" He blushed suddenly, glad she couldn't see him terribly well in the dark.

She giggled again. It was nice. To laugh like this, to tease a little, and not have everything feel so emotionally heavy. _There should be times when it's just fun, right? _"Rupert. It's not like I don't I _know_ things. Maybe I just haven't done them. I might not want to do them." _But he's not going to pick one I don't like. He's going to tell me something that makes us both get embarrassed, and then we'll go slow, and then- maybe tonight- we'll try something new. _The lightness suddenly left her spirit as she thought of a reason for his reticence. "Oh. I mean- I guess if I can't do the basics I can't blame you for thinking I don't want other things."

"That's not it! And not true. You are perfectly capable of 'the basics', we simply make our own form, move at a slower pace. For now." He nuzzled her protectively, kissing her throat with sudden hunger. He felt his arousal wane slightly and reemerge, keeping him on the delicious brink, but he didn't mind.

Bad requests, bad requests… There were sexual games about pain and dominance, bondage. And he hated them now. He'd been tortured and tied, and knew pleasure, even if not sexual, merely sadistic, was derived from it. He knew she'd been subjected to some twisted form of dominance and a vile form of pain that made him want to vomit. Head games were the same category for both of them, having been possessed and mentally controlled by things, gods or demons, or simply thralled into making a fatal mistake.

"Nothing bad… exploratory, perhaps." He finally whispered. "No pain. No games of the negative nature. I'm thankful to simply have you in my arms. All my requests would be good ones, welcome ones, I hope." _Good to you, and for you._ Their hands were on him together, exploring now.

"But you have to make one." She pointed out.

"I would like you to teach me more about what you enjoy." He smiled with sudden archness.

"Hey! No fair! That just puts it back on _me_ making requests." She laughed and poked his chest gently, hand leaving his bulge.

"Figure that I've devoted six years of my recent life to training and educating. I fancy being the scholar again." The momentary mischievousness left him abruptly. "Although, I suppose if you've any 'fantasies' you'd like to share, I'm not the most suitable partner to act them out. I'm sure a male lead was not what you envisioned in the-"

"I stopped fantasizing a long time ago." Tara cut him off bluntly, hand still on his chest, eyes downcast. "S-survival. Strength. When I fell in love with someone a-after it happened, I wanted to be with them more than protect myself, so I learned to be ph-physical again. And then I learned to enjoy what we could do. Willow was… Willow was my fantasy, and I think being with me was hers. We loved it. Enjoyed it. And it was good, even if it wasn't full of crazy new ideas to try."

"That's all it has to be! Loving and enjoyable. I don't want more than that."

"Don't you?" Tara looked up at him, hearing herself say things she had not known were true. "Someday,_ I _want more. I'm with someone I love and trust. I'm beyond surviving right now. I think… I think it's time to grow again." She swallowed. "Th-that might just be me though, 'cause I did a lot of growing with you already, with the - just everything we already did." In spite of the reversion back to a deep, emotional atmosphere, they both smiled.

"I've grown so much with you. With no effort required. You are naturally inspiring." She beamed, her eyes glowed and began their innocently hypnotic hold on him again. "I would like to finish." Giles murmured to her._ Finish me. In a way you choose. _

"I wasn't going to say anything." She hastily reassured.

"No…" He bumped his forehead lightly to hers. "I would like it if you- helped me. Finish." He coughed tightly. "You always do, I meant- hrm." What had he meant? They always ended their sessions mutually satisfied, she was a generous and unselfish woman by nature, and attentive to him in particular.

"Ohhh. 'Finish'." She gripped him with sudden firmness and pumped.

"Thank you. For saving me from awkward verbal injury." He laughed and groaned sharply as she swiped her thumb over his tip.

"We do that a lot. Glad to have someone else who understands." She half sat up, hand still working. "Finish how?"

"Any way you wish. It shouldn't take much." His voice was raspier now, proof of his words.

"You could tell me what you want. Hand? M-mouth is okay, too." She lead. "Someplace else…" _I limit his choices. I say 'someplace else' but that's really just two things. _

"I love every delicious inch of you, Darling." He could feel her questioning herself. He ran his hand up her arm and dug his hand into her soft skin as a pre-orgasmic spasm juddered through his groin. "A combination of both of those would be wonderful."

Silently, swiftly, she moved over him, curling over his body, her legs between his spread ones, her head easily bobbing on him as her mouth began the soft little kisses that she warmed him up with.

"That's- new. And very nice." He was losing his words now, only grunts seeming to come out naturally.

"What's new?"

In answer, he half sat and pulled her forward just a bit. Her heavy, soft breasts pillowed his erection for a moment, as they had been during some of her ministrations. "So soft. And not to sound like a typical hormone addled male- but you do have amazing breasts." He lapsed back, eyes closed, back arching just a touch.

"Mm." Breasts were something that she could easily share a love of, a soft and sensual part she admired. Willow had as well. And Willow had been way more vocal about loving her partner's size and pillow-like qualities. Had also taken advantage of said breasts more than Giles did, fondling and nursing at Tara's hard pink- brown nipples continually during their play.

Giles looked up for a second, forcing his blissfully closed eyes to open as he felt her hand moving against his thigh. Looked up to see his often-shy lover tugging and kneading her tight nipples and all the lovely white flesh surrounding them. "You like to be touched there?" He asked. He knew she _enjoyed _his touch there, but was it a "turn on"? He had never paid extended special attention to that area.

Tara started for a second, her mouth full of him, and caught pleasuring herself. She nodded, letting him escape for a moment. "You don't do it too much, or too little. I _do_ like it." A sudden flame across her cheeks. "Willow was a lot more handsy and I was- um- remembering that, and missing it, and- Rupert?" He was gently pushing her off. "I th-thought you wouldn't mind if I told you." Tara sat up, momentarily scared she'd killed the mood and his desire by mentioning the woman she'd loved.

"Oh, far from mind. I bless Willow's name and her attentions. May I make a request?" Voice full of reminders.

Tara nodded eagerly, recalling the conversation of moments ago.

He patted the bed, indicating she should lay down. "If this isn't comfortable let me know, I- hrm- quite a bit larger in -in frame- than you." He eased one leg over her hips, straddling her, but seeming to wait, like he wasn't yet in position. Letting her decide what was comfortable for her.

She understood the request now. Tingles of the excited sort fluttered from her pussy to her lips. She scooted down, until his legs were no longer astride her hips but her upper ribs. his hands slowly came to either breast, cupping firmly, massaging like he'd just witnessed her pleasuring herself. "This is a really good request." Tara whispered.

"I was hoping you would- ooh. You seem to know. Have you done this particular- um- deed?" Giles felt Ripper-like lust combine with his typical gentlemanly manners as his partner placed her hands alongside his, lifting up and pushing together, making a smooth channel for his member.

"My first boyfriend did something like this- for about two minutes." She let out a tiny chuckle. "Not in this position, but with me doing what I'm doing now." She squeezed her breasts around him snugly. "But he didn't - oh God, Giles… he forgot, or he didn't know to- to do what _you're_ doing." What he was doing was rocking against her now, with his hands gripping and kneading her breasts, particularly the sensitive raised areas. Experienced, large, warm hands, skillful fingers that could manipulate magic, now massaging her until she felt her insides twitch.

"Too hard?" He asked.

"No! Do more. Just don't- um- don't squeeze like you're mashing them. You didn't!" She hastily affirmed. "It's something I don't like, so I was warning you."

"I appreciate that." He thrust and felt, _oh dear Lord_\- her tongue reach down and just dab the crown, driving him mad._ I have no idea what heaven I've landed in. If I 'm dead, I think I'll stay here, thank you._

* * *

It wouldn't take long, but he didn't want it to be only about his orgasm. Even if she was definitely enjoying his attentions to her top half, he didn't think it was quite the "stimulation" required. He reached behind him, skimming his hand down her soft skin, down past the curls, and extended back enough to rub her clit with the particular motion and pressure she liked. She'd just taken the tip of him in her mouth and her sudden moan around him did inexplicable things to him, and his self-control. One of his fingers plunged into her ready wetness, pulling on his shoulder a bit too much, but it was well worth her enthusiastic hip bucking, the happy, half-muffled squeal. She let him free from her mouth but not from the swell of her breasts, and they shared a panting smile as they tried to time it just right, to finish together, leaving no one wanting.

Hers was a shudder and a hoarse, low groan, while his was higher pitched, equally hoarse and indistinct. Higher pitched than normal, he expected, as she'd just sunk one of her skillful, graceful hands into his backside and gripped down in a way that made his nerve endings pulse. His release arced out, one hard hot jet across her neck and cheek, the rest stroking out into a little lake in the valley of her cleavage as he sank back, wide eyed and winded.

* * *

Tara gasped as he went suddenly from sated and relaxed into a spring, grabbing his tossed off white undershirt, wiping gently but urgently at her cheek, muttering apologies and alternately cursing. "Giles… what?" _Good feelings. Happy parts. Blown mind, doesn't compute._

"I should have been more thoughtful, dammit. Careless… heat of the moment, I apologize…" Only half of what he said could she hear.

Rupert, stop!" A hand on his, pushing him away. "Seriously, why are you-"

_Oh. _

Like touch connected them before, it seemed to do now, though it wasn't anything mystical this time. Simply shared memories.

The way her attack had been finished. Her thrown to the floor. The figure over her, the slur thrown at her in the dark along with hot drops dotting her cheek along with her blood and her tears.

_And Giles saw it through my eyes, and he thinks that-_ _No. He better stop thinking that _now. "Rupert." She knelt on the bed, sliding up against him, onto his chest, both uncaring for the slippery mess they were.

"Forgive me?" He asked, eyes closed, head sinking.

"No. Nothing to forgive. Maybe to thank you for." She gave him a luminescent look, eyes almost glowing into his, as if she could shine the sorrow away. "What we did felt so amazing, and I was so close to you- I only was thinking about you. I loved watching you let go. Up close was kind of- exciting." She admitted with a blush._ Of course it's exciting._ Watching the tightly wound man come spiraling free, all for her, and only for her, completely uninhibited and terribly private.

"Oh? Th-that's- hm- flattering." _And slightly embarrassing. And hedonistic. Tara enjoyed watching me. Well, I enjoy watching her. Whatever she's doing, she's lovely to see._ He stroked his hand down her spine. "I should have asked if there were things to avoid, and I'm glad it seems my oversight didn't cause you any bad feelings."

"Only good ones." Her eyebrows drew together in concentration. Different feeling. The climax was nice, watching his was something she was surprised she had found sort of "hot", and then… The sensitivity and the thoughtfulness of his actions immediately following. Taking care of her bad memories for her, trying to ward them off, and beating himself up when he perceived that he failed to do so. "You know something?"

"What, dear?"

"I think you're pretty perfect for a husband. Th-there's the basics, like we can talk, and we get along, and the good stuff in bed with you, but also- you really do try to take care of me. You don't act like I'm some fragile thing, but you still want to make sure if there's a pain I can avoid, that you help me avoid it. And that's a lot to do, without a lot of practice, so I th-think you're doing a good job."

Simply stunned at her compliment, he just coughed and felt the heat flow over him, and seemed unable to do anything but pat her back, stroke her hair, and nod.

Tara smiled and slid from his embrace, feeling his eyes on her as she headed to the stairs, going to go down and have a quick rinse. "Sometimes the actions are the same. What happened to me before, and what happens between us now? Physical locations, where stuff g-goes, or lands, where we touch. But it never, ever_ feels_ the same. Everything with you feels amazing and I love it. " She silently padded down the stairs.

* * *

She heard the tapping on the door over the running of the shower. "Yes?"

"May I join you?" A courtly voice, with a hint of a smile inside it.

Giles sighed contentedly as she swung the door open and welcomed him.

* * *

_Storm Warnings_

"Hello, am I speaking to Mr. John Maclay?"

"Nope." A voice that sounded bored and full, as in Mr. Sabatini could hear crunching and slurping around the word, replied.

"Is he available?"

"Nope."

"I've been trying to get in touch with him for a few weeks, but it seems the answering machine is disconnected."

"Don't use one."

"Then I hope you can take a message for me. My name is Mr. Sabatini, I'm from the Department of Immigration and Naturalization and-"

"We don't hire help- though we could use some. Try to tell Dad that. Try bigger farms, Mister."

"It's not about hiring workers, it's about Tara Maclay. Did you say your father is John Maclay?" He hadn't specifically, but Sabatini was shrewd and quick minded. He was able to put slips of tongue or implied meanings together rapidly, which is why he was a successful sceptic and detected more fraudulent proceedings than a lot of his colleagues.

"Uh- yeah, that's my dad. Did you just say 'Tara'?"

"Your sister?"

"I guess."

"A step-sibling?" Sabatini frowned and began to go back into the Giles dossier.

"No, she's blood." There was a sneer in the voice. "But that's all. Ain't welcome here, and we don't want her back."

"I see." _What charming people. Maybe that's why a pretty college girl wants to marry an older citizenship applicant with his own pretty lucrative store. Security, a place to go, a home of her own since it sounds like she's estranged from this family._

"Is she leaving the country? Good."

"No…" The frown deepened._ So maybe they don't know. There's estranged families, and then there are families who become estranged over circumstances like weddings they don't approve of. Let's see which one this is. _"I'd like to speak to your father as well, but do you have time to answer a few questions- Donald?"

"Hey! How do you know my name?"

"I'm calling Tara Maclay's relatives, and I have that she has a surviving father and brother, John and Donald. Am I correct that I'm speaking to Donald?"

"Donny. Sure. Ask what you want. If it's about what she's doing in California, living it up in the big city, can't help you out though."

"I was wondering if you could give me your impressions on the man your sister married, answer a few questions about him?"

Silence. "You're pranking me."

"What?" He'd never gotten that response before.

"You seen my sister? Scared little freak. Kind of ugly, too. She didn't marry anyone."

A click on the computer, bringing up the picture he had searched. Local newspaper announcement for engagements. Smiling girl, far from ugly, maybe slightly washed out in the black and white image he had to go by, leaning on the arm of a handsome older man. Quietly handsome. Distinguished. Both of them wearing the same kind of smiles actually, these small, knowing smiles. Pair of academics hitching up, maybe professor and his protegé, that's what you might think if you only looked at it in passing.

Sabatini did nothing in passing. "I've found physical attractiveness and what is considered an attractive person, or personality trait, by family members may not hold true when it comes to marital relationships. You were unaware of your sister's marriage?"

"She didn't marry anyone!"

"She married Mr. Rupert Giles just before Labor Day of this year."

"_Mister_?"

"Yes?"

"She married a _guy_?"

"Yes." _Wait. We're hitting the words wrong. He's not asking what I think he's asking, the emphasis is different_. "You sound surprised. You're surprised she didn't tell you?"

"No, I'm surprised it's a man. She's not into guys. She has a girlfriend."

And the warning lights in Sabatini's brain that forever flickered when he was on assignment went into full floodlight setting. "Well. That's certainly interesting news. What's her girlfriend's name?"

"I don't know!" Donny snorted. "She doesn't tell us things, okay? She moved to California to go to college, and she was supposed to move home by the time she was twenty one, but she didn't. So now we don't talk to her, she doesn't talk to us. Her freaky friends down there like her the way she is, all screwed up and witchy."

"Witchy. Right. She works in a magic shop. Her husband owns it."

"Wait… the old guy? Not the blonde guy?"

"Hair is listed as brown, but seems to be turning gray." He checked the physical description against the photo on record from the applicant's current visa.

"That's the guy who-" Donny stopped. His father and he had held an ugly confrontation in the shop. There was a British dude there, two of them actually, but one was definitely not seeming friendly. He'd punched his sister. The other guy was all tight and tweedy, who was on her side. Threatened them. They were threatening Tara, so this guy took her side, but Donny's warped view of the situation skated past that.

"You've met him?"

"Once."

"And your impressions? You didn't like him?"

"Look, my sister was supposed to be home for her twenty first birthday. It's a - family rule. She belongs to us. We're her kin. He didn't respect that."

_And I don't respect that either._ Different sets of warning lights flared._ Belongs to us. Family rule. Girl escapes controlling idiot brother. Wonder what the father is like? _"You argued?"

"He was there. He took my sister's side."

"Not exactly a bad thing for a man to take his wife's side. Not that they were married then."

"And I bet you they're not really married now. She was with a redhead. Another witch, bet you a million dollars. You check it out." Donny's voice became intense, full of hate that Sabatini could hear. "She's a lying, whoring, freaky witch."

A pause. "Would you have your father call me, please?"

"Hang on." The phone clunked. Heavy. stomps. "DAAAAAAAAAADDD!" More stomps. "He's near the house, with the chickens. He heard me. He'll be inside in a few, if you wanna hold on."

"Thank you, I'll hold."

* * *

Sabatini could hear the hissing argument, ending with a hoarse cry of "What? Your sister is _what_?" Then a loud, angry voice was scorching the wires, now aimed at him. "What do you mean, my daughter is married?"

He had long practice with angry phone calls. He had the phone dangling well below his ear and he lifted the mouthpiece smoothly to reply. "Mr. John Maclay? I'm Mr. Sabatini, Department of Immigration and Naturalization. I'd like to ask you a few questions regarding the man your daughter married. Rupert Giles. I understand from your son you've only met him once, and that you were not invited to the wedding."

It sounded like the man was having some sort of apoplectic fit at first. Just growling and muttering under gasps for air. "She didn't get my blessing." Was the first intelligible thing he could decipher.

"I- am sorry to hear that." _Old fashioned family. Or _something.

"She'll be… that's a private matter that I will discuss with her. Thank you for your call."

"Could you answer a few questions?" Sabatini tossed out quickly.

"I don't know her 'husband'."

"The English guy in the magic store. Older one. The one who helped the girls, said Tara wasn't coming without us going through him." Donny's muffled voice intruded.

"Oh. _Him_."

Sabatini stored the information he wasn't meant to hear. That was usually the most pertinent kind. So Rupert Giles was defending this woman, even while she was with another lover. Had the fling been going on for awhile, maybe behind the other's back? Had he loved her from afar? A love triangle? Or was this a case of friendship developing into something more as time passed? "Mr. Maclay, I won't take long. Five minutes at the most."

"I met the man once, and I was not invited to the wedding, he didn't even ask my consent. What can I possibly answer?" The voice was brittle in controlled rage.

"Did Mr. Giles say or do anything to indicate that he had feelings for your daughter?"

"No."

_But he wouldn't let you take her away, like a belonging_. _That indicates some kind of feeling to me, even if it's only that he cared about what she wanted._ "Would you say he's an untrustworthy person, just from your initial impression?"

"A man who comes between a father and his offspring is no good, if you ask me."

"I see."

"He consorts with unclean things. Runs a shop for folks who favor demons and witchcraft." Mr. Maclay said with a warning tone.

"But your daughter is an employee at the same store. That indicates that she also favors those things." Sabatini had questioned everyone from bank presidents to used car salesmen, to hookers. He didn't set respectability and values level with professions, oddly enough. He'd met incredibly honest and kind ex-cons, and ruthless, lying angel-faced nannies. "I'm afraid interests and occupations, as long as they're legal, don't have a bearing on my impression of a person."

"Maybe it should. Consorting with the darkness leads to darkness."

"Right. So you think he's 'dark'?"

"_She_ is. And she'll turn him bad. Probably already has, probably had when I saw him."

_Uh-huh. _A rule was to never feel sympathy until making a final decision. He was breaking that rule. P_oor girl. Run fast, run far. If you've got "daddy issues", I don't blame you. I hope this guy buys you teddy bears and you can sit on his lap, if that floats your boat- and keeps you away from this asshole_. "Thank you, Mr. Maclay. I'm done with my questions. You've been extremely enlightening."

"Can I have her number? I'm assuming she's shacked up with this man. And probably whoring on the side, with males and females both."

"I'm not at liberty to give out the number."

"What was his name again?"

He opened his mouth. It closed silently. Then he hung up. He winced. Emotional involvement. Refusing to restate previously stated information. "I'm getting soft, Judy." He called to secretary and reached for the antacids in his desk.

"Don't feel bad. You'll make it up on the next interview." She laughed.

"That's right, I will." He steeled himself. A lot of things to really dig into. Sympathy and emotions aside now.

_What kind of girl is this? And what kind of man is Rupert Giles that he married her, or she married him?_

* * *

To be continued...


	11. Chapter 11

**Union**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ A story about love, but maybe not about romance. A sweet little piece about two gentle people who love each other without being in love, trying to overcome regrets, fear, and loneliness in order to keep what's left of their lives together. Completely AU, after season five._

_Author's Note: It's a piece about Tara and Giles. I never imagined I would write such a piece, but the idea would not leave alone until it was written. If you find that wrong, bad, or in someway worth getting upset over, please stop reading. I don't write to make people sad, I write because I love it and I like to share what's in my head with people who are looking to enjoy a flight of fancy. _

_Author's Second Note: Sexual content warning._

_Dedicated to AGriffinWriter, ValidescopeWest, Writerdragonfly, Ginar369, Lupinesence, therightstory, Cloongarvin, and lil-leti. _

**Part XI**

_November Rain_

"It's going to be a wet one. Day off work." Xander rubbed his hands as he closed the door. "Candy binge!"

"At least it held off for Halloween." Tara sighed and took down the shop's gaudy decorations. Every little witch made her think of last Halloween, Halloween with Willow and her stereotyping lecture that ended abruptly at the sight of every little midget in a pointy hate and dimpled cheeks. "So many trick or treaters this year. More than last year. Here and at home." Anya, Xander, Spike, and the Summers stayed at the shop a little past closing, catering to tons of people seeking to buy a little spooky something. Then they headed back to Buffy's house for the Snoopy movie and to greet more trick or treaters.

"And since you're free tomorrow, I have a recommendation for how you spend your time, in addition to the candy binge." Giles handed Xander a very large, peeling volume. "Perhaps you could visit your wife at the shop and you could do a bit of reading?" Giles winced a little as he caught the book as Xander pushed it back as if it could bite. "It's in English. You've no excuse."

"How about 'I don't want to'?"

"How about 'something large and slimy is starting to ruin more of my footwear'?" Buffy glared. "I'll help you after class."

"If it storms, you won't be able to patrol anyway." Tara said softly, watching the subtle straining lift Giles made to pull down one last crepe paper bat with one hand and held onto the book with the other, trying to turn to see Buffy as well. A definite, subtle hitch in the shoulders. _Must be a bad storm this time. Worse than before._ His forehead was creased, eyes pinched looking, the look of someone in pain. But he didn't say anything.

"We can patrol. We had last night off!" Buffy sounded enthused. "Tomorrow night will be great if we head out early enough, right Giles? We can start following the trail before it gets washed away, and less slime, less footwear ruination."

"A- a good point." Giles admitted.

"I'll go with you." Tara quickly volunteered.

Her pseudo-family was speechless. "Oh. Good. That's good!" Buffy blinked. "We haven't been out together in awhile." _Patrol is _my_ time with Giles._

"Spike can stay with Dawn." Tara suggested. _He'll stay out half the night even if it's throwing down lightning bolts and he can barely bend. He'll take on any demon that comes at his Slayer, he won't even feel the pain if she's in danger. But maybe if I'm there I could help…_

"Spike should come with us. If we lose sight of the trail, he may still be able to sense or smell the path they took." Giles had an uncomfortable twinge that had nothing to do with oncoming storms. His wife and dear friend wanted him to rest and if he stayed home, they had a chance to attempt something that would heal him and help him. His Slayer, his daughter at heart, wanted her Watcher in the field with her, something she had once rejected, had once pushed him out of, and that he had distanced himself from in a fit of wounded pride. "When I'm no longer needed, Spike can guide you."

"What? No! You're needed! Totally needed, always needed." Buffy protested.

"I meant, when I'm unable to help track, if we lose the trail, Spike can take over." Giles soothed with a gentle smile.

"Oh. Right. I guess so."

"Does this mean we Dawn sit?" Anya huffed. "Xander has the day off work. That means more sex at night, because he has more energy to burn."

"I can stay by myself!" Dawn said angrily. "Sorry to be a burden! Buffy, weren't you slaying when you were like- a year older than me? By yourself?"

"And in a year we can talk about it." Buffy said firmly.

"And she can say no." Xander nodded gravely.

Tara listened to the squabbling start. All parties chipping in, and she was done. Last night she and Giles went back to their apartment and gave candy to the children who ventured out. Neither of them wore costumes. They rejected the invitation to watch the _Great Pumpkin _at Buffy's place. They both slept, and did nothing more, exhausted from a long day of class, sales, and perpetually answering the door.

_We're fragmenting. We're not supposed to. Closer than ever. That's how families should be when things get tough. That's how we were. After Joyce. After Willow._ "Why doesn't Dawn come with us? Make it a shorter patrol?"

The talking stopped abruptly.

Tara spoke in the silence, not looking at anyone. "I'll help. I can do a spell of illumination. Show what once was, but has been washed away. Anya, I need a couple ingredients-"

"If I get to have my husband to myself most of the night, it's free." Anya agreed hastily. "Or at least steeply discounted."

"We'll find it faster, you guys can handle it, Dawn and I can stay back to a safe distance, and then we'll call it a night."

"That sounds like an excellent plan." Giles voted for her idea. The rest agreed. The shop closed, and parties separated in a subdued manner, promising to fulfill whatever promises they'd made for the next day in terms of research, helping at the shop, etc.

* * *

"That was a very clever idea." Giles praised quietly.

"I want to do what I can to help."

"You don't want me out in the rain." He pointed out the ulterior motive with a hint of a smile.

"You hurt worse when it rains. Unless we fix it. I can put some on tonight, that'll help for now. O-or we can try the full spell, the one where i-it does more." This was a deeper magic. Not just rearranging the vision, not just temporary, but changing the body itself, permanently. His body. Dangerous. It could be made worse. It could open up the scars instead of removing them._ I could hurt him…_

"I think I'd rather wait until I'm a little more focused. You did want my help?"

"The preparation is done, you just need to chant at first, then hold still. I can do it tonight." She insisted.

It was tempting. And terrifying. To lose the pain would be wonderful. To live through the memories the treatment brought back, torture. He could deal with the ache. It was when the physical pain was bad enough that he was forced to deal, willing to deal, to see the old ghosts. "Perhaps a stage one and two?" He suggested, knowing it was cowardly not to simply complete things.

"Okay." She was quick to follow his lead. She didn't like tapping into his pain any more than he enjoyed entering hers. "Whatever you want."

"Tonight, a simple application of your miraculous balm would be lovely. Tomorrow night, provided we have the energy, and the need, we could attempt the more complex part." His back twinged, his heart momentarily pumped harder at the thought, body trying to activate some defenses he would have to lower for any spell to work.

"Sounds like a g-good idea." Tara nodded.

Silence. The radio played softly, something acoustic, and Tara was finally aware of it. She hadn't been so far. "I wish Willow was here." She suddenly whispered.

"Oh, Darling. I know. As do I." He gripped her hand as he made the last turn before their flat came into view.

"You never would have told me though. Told_ anyone_." Tara gave him a sudden intense stare. "You never would have told anyone you're hurting and no one would know, because no one gets close enough to look under your armor."

"Rather faded armor." Giles didn't answer directly. They'd find out when he died or was mortally wounded, And that was really quite soon enough. He didn't need them to blame themselves, nor live through the pity or terror in their eyes. With her- those emotions didn't seem to register.

Tara continued to stare at him from the corner of her eye, watching his features work briefly before settling back into their typical complacency._ The visor of his helmet down, and only the kindly eyes underneath showing through. Scratched up, dented, dulled armor. Still battle-worthy. I bet all the real heroes never had any armor left by the time their battles were done, all used up. And he's not only defending from the front lines. Never_ only_ a warrior. _"You're not just one of the knights, Giles. You're the mage- that's not just the magic user, that's the wise one, the scholar. Teacher."

It was silly, and yet, her voice was so soft and sincere, like she was weaving the story of his life in her words, and it was easy to play along. "Then you're the priestess. You bless the knights, you serve the mage, he worships at your altar, and you heal the sick and injured."

Her breath stopped someplace under her breasts and locked there. When he wasn't trying to think of the right words, and he just spoke…_ Wow_. That seemed inadequate, yet it was all her mind could come with at first, hearing such lovely things said about her. "I wish everyone knew how beautiful your mind was. Not just bright, and knowledgeable. Really beautiful."

"And I wish everyone realized that you are equal to any challenge. You may be soft spoken, but that's only because your voice travels to the exact point it needs to reach. Never the force- always the_ sway_."

They swayed. In the dark convertible that he turned off, listening to the night time sounds as they somehow managed to kiss. Managed to lock lips and hands were pulling them towards each other, two people in the moment.

"Let's go in." She whispered when his lips left hers, barely, only enough to let her speak.

And lay this knight upon her altar, let the healer lay her hands on him, let this priestess bless him. His body responded, but more than that, his mind was aroused. "Yes, Love."

* * *

He groaned, a deep, unguarded masculine sound that made her tingle inside, triggering a smile and hot clench from between her thighs. The way he moved against her as she did this- this was not sex, or magic, it was both.

Giles was a wave, down and up, back arching. Towels be damned, they were not confined to a nice, gentle rubdown that night. The entire sheet was their playground- no- her altar, because there was mutual worship occurring. "Mm. Prophetess. Healer." He licked her neck as she stroked her coated palms all over his nude back, held him where she wanted with her graceful calves.

A shudder under him. "All the healing that lies in thee, unlock and healing be set free, unleash the pain that lies in me." She breathed it out again, maybe the fifth or sixth time, his body a slick mass over hers, and her palms radiating with the power. Her mind reeled. _This is only a fraction of what we can do tomorrow night. And tomorrow night won't be all about the pleasure of removing pain, nothing like this "massage". _

_ Enjoy it while we can, and pray tomorrow ends up feeling good for him too._

Every time she spoke the incantation he felt better, restored, pain alleviated. Each time the pain left, a surge of arousal broke the surface of his usually cautious mind. "My God… you feel so wonderful. Make me feel so wonderful…" He swallowed. Somehow they'd crossed magics, created a hybrid with their natural energies and actions.

"It's- like light. Kissing your skin." Tara breathed.

"We've added a primal component." He breathed back, trying to stay clear in a haze of lustful drive. "Sex magick, without trying to."

"I never… Willow and I did some things, but never … magic was like the excuse to start. It was like part os us- not between us, not what we created. It wasn't happening during." Her mind was muzzy, but she felt safe. Not confused or uncertain. Simply awed with sensations. "You must've?" Tara looked at him with lazy eyes.

"Many time. Dark magic. Never like this. This is pure. Like the light you mentioned. Light you _are._" His body pressed down and his arms stopped supporting his weight, instead gathering her up to roll with him.

"Giles." She breathed out his name and kissed him, her hands on his back, then down over his shoulders, stopping short of his abdomen. "It absorbs quickly, but it's thick… it'll make you slippery all over." She warned.

_Slippery all over. How very erotic sounding._ "How much do you need for tomorrow?" He panted.

"A lot." Each scar must be painted over after preparing it with the sacred symbols first. _My warrior. Lots of ground to cover._

"We shouldn't…" _Shouldn't use it as a play thing. _

"There's another bowlful downstairs, remember?" She whispered.

"Tempting me." He caught her hand and slid it slowly down.

"Mmm. I don't think there's anything tempting here. Tempting means you have to look at something you can't have, right?"

"Perhaps."

"But I want you to have it."

_I want to do things with her. Wet, uninhibited things, thoughtless things. Animal things. I don't know what's come over me_. "I- I'm sorry, I'm - I'm feeling so wonderful and out of pain. I never experienced sexual magic with a partner like this. Where there's love and it's an act of good and healing." He breathed out slowly. "It's exciting, that's all."

"Be excited." She encouraged, a wise yet alluring smile crossing her face. "I am."

"You give me so much, and I immediately want more." He frowned briefly. _Selfish. Ripper's sexual appetites. Fine, that is me, that is part of me. I have the appetite and I've been starved. She's such a sweet feast and now she's offering me so many helpings…_

"L-like you're hungry for it? Each other?" She sounded breathless and her stammer was borne of quick talking and tingling, hopeful lips, not shyness or fright.

"Yes. Exactly."

"I like that." Tara whispered.

"All I can think of is becoming one slippery knot of skin with you. Pulling you onto me, or me pushing into you, and I… It's not that I need more from you, Darling, it's only that I can't stop imagining it right now." He kissed her neck again, biting gently, moving across the throat and down, head bowing in delicious frustration. "I don't need more. I'm so blessed with what we have." He reminded her.

She was quiet, hands roving over him, digging in, kneading, making him moan helplessly, almost a whimper. She smiled, suddenly aware of her own power, and having no desire to abuse it. "I like the idea of being tied up with you." His head bolted up, and her eyes widened as they met in confusion. "Oh! Oh no! I meant, the- the knot of skin thing you said. I got that! You and me- t-tied together. Like wrapped up. Joined. Not- not with rope." He nodded feverishly, swallowing. "I'm sorry." _Angelus tied him and tortured him. Hence the back. Hence the scars and the magic and - I'm so stupid_. Her confidence, something long neglected and slow to flourish began to escape. "I'm so sorry."

"It's all right." Her shame-faced expression made him want to wrap her up with him even more, protect and caress her, encourage her. _She thought of my capture. I - well, I did _not. He blushed at the other images, images he wouldn't pursue, but still hadn't meant to conjure up. "I'm quite bound to you, my love. You'll never need any sort of rope to keep me well attached." He nuzzled her cheek and then her breast.

Her wetness seeped out. That sweet, safe feeling rushed back, coupled with the desire to fix her words with actions. "All that un-decorating today, at the store? My arms are kind of sore."

"Mm. They must be." He reached for the bowl at the bedside. Three fingers around the rim, and then down her arm. Across his other palm, and both hands swept from her shoulders to her fingertips. "Legs?"

"Not so much. But I do love how this feels. And the scent." She moved her fingers down above his navel. And then below, feeling the muscles tense, but in pleasurable anticipation. "I never used… well, it's all natural ingredients. Not irritating. Safe for any skin areas. Even the 'sensitive' ones."

In the back of his mind there was the idea that if he was slick enough, and perhaps she was as well, they'd join fully. "With your previous pleasuring," his voice was low, like he was asking for secret information and afraid to do so, "previous to us, was there any lubricant? That helped?"

"We never tried anything." Tara swallowed. "It wasn't so much about not fitting , as not wanting to. Before now. I mean, anything that Willow had was thin and didn't hurt to go in, really, just sometimes stopped feeling good, or it was in my mind that it hurt, so we… didn't do much like that."

"Of course. I understand." Fully, and he accepted her statements without question. He gasped loudly when she wrapped her fist around him and pumped, coating his erection, effortlessly wringing more groans from him.

"It's still fun to massage you. It's fun to try things…" She pushed his hand lightly back to the bowl. "If you like this?"

"I _adore_ this." He answered unreservedly, and placed a groping hand against her breast, making her close her eyes in response. "Adore you."

* * *

Pain free, languid exploration and intense touching. Kissing. Devouring. New positions, her face down, bottom up slightly, and his cock pillowed between creamy cheeks, slowly rutting, his sack nestled against the wet warmth between her thighs. And so as not to neglect her, his fingers occasionally joined in stroking. Then entering. One two, and at her breathless entreaty for more, part of his third.

She rose up easily, stretched on his hand, her knees apart, her own hand suddenly back, rubbing frantically, eagerly at her clit while he watched, mesmerized and slowly rotated his fingers, other hand coming to comfort himself as he received this show.

_She's so beautiful. Not shy right now. I love her demure sweetness. I like that she shows me the intimate moments that no one would imagine her enjoying. Like this. Cumming on my hand. _He viciously stroked his hardness, wanting to release, but waiting, wondering if further experimentation would happen between them. He leaned forward and grasped one cheek firmly, kneading it as she rode his fingers steadily now.

"Want to?" She looked over her shoulder, and then bit her lip. _Giles knows I'm not guaranteeing anything._ Her hips wriggled restlessly on his hand before squirming off, aware that she received far more variety and creativity of pleasuring from him than he did from her. At least in her mind, that was how things seemed.

He nodded. "I want to, very much. But it doesn't have to be now." His erection twitched hungrily, a drop of clear fluid rolling down the tip, another one quickly beading up on top. "I'm not going to set any records for stamina." He admitted, blushing.

"Already have." She began to roll over to her back, then stopped and resumed her previous position. Pushing her rear out, head on the pillow.

"Like this?"_ No. No, I don't want to like this. That is, I didn't think it should be like this._ But he was obliging, moving in closer behind her, tongue feeling suddenly leaden in his mouth, when it should be watering at such a gorgeous view, the view of x-rated dreams. _I don't care so much about that. I want to see her face. I want to whisper in her ear and hold her to me, or hold her hands, thank her with my eyes when she finally takes me all the way home inside herself. _

"It feels more open this time. This way."

_Then of course. It's easier for her. And it's about her comfort level. I've always enjoyed any position. _ "Of course." He rubbed her hips, hands over her soft, spreading cheeks, widening as she leaned further down. He swallowed and shook his head, knowing she couldn't see it now, that he was trying to focus. _Gentle. Still with her. And it isn't an unloving position, just not how you imagined. While why should you think it had to be a certain way? You only try to avoid recreating pains her father caused her, and - at least from the horrors I saw, this is not how he attacked her. _ "I love you." He whispered.

"Mmm, Rupert." She snuggled back, a mixture of eagerness and trepidation. "This is good, right?" Her second phrase a tiny sigh, half muffled in the sheet.

"Oh, yes. Very good, Darling." He hesitated. "I can't see your face."

Tara raised herself up, angled her head around to look at him, and catch an unintended glimpse of his worried grimace. "Sorry?"

"I- I'm worried I won't know soon enough if you're uncomfortable." He shook his head, mad at himself for hesitating when she was asking for his attention.

"So you'd let yourself be uncomfortable instead." Tara said neatly, and she smiled.

"I'm not uncomfortable." He leaned forward and reached for her cheek, the smile budding on it. "Only worried I could ruin such a perfect moment. I- hrm- I tend to ruin things."

"Not things with me." She shook her head, and reached back, her hand sliding down his arm. "You can see me now."

"I can. But that looks- difficult." The half twist in her back, the half and half position of her shoulders, one supporting her weight, one letting her arm glide back up his.

"Yoga." She shrugged. "I'm actually pretty flexible. Or I u-used to be."

A brief jolt of imagination pictured her in a tangle of complex positions. And rapidly reminded himself that only a handful might be accessible to someone of his age and stiffness.

"I don't worry about seeing your face sometimes." Tara whispered, interrupting him, although her words were knowing. "I feel close to you. I sometimes- j-just sometimes know what you're thinking." She couldn't tell if he blushed, both of them were flushed and blood had rushed to the surface of their fevered skin awhile ago.

"You're very attuned to people."_ I'm closed off. She's an open flower, I'm a sealed book._

"You're attuned to me. What I need. Want." Her smile disappeared, but she wasn't unhappy. "Feel safe with you. Come here?"

"Yes. Right here for you." He leaned up, chest across her back, and her hips against his. They shared a shallow kiss, several kisses, as he felt her sinking back, and his hardness bumped between her cheeks, her folds, her thighs, then inside, making him gasp, loving the feeling of her gasp actually happening against his mouth. And then the bit lip, hers, his, and she moved her body back into a straight line, under him.

She was velvet. Opening and dripping, taking him easily as much as they had attempted before, and a bit more than that. Once inside, however, he froze. Afraid to thrust in, waiting for her to thrust back. "Good?" He could only croak out one word.

"Yes." She hissed out one in reply. Neither moved.

"It's a- a very easy position for me to - to move in deeply." Giles felt another coating of sweat trailing from his brow as he ached to do just that, and was holding still instead, the unsheathed portion of his cock waiting and impatient to feel the warmth of her.

"You c-can." Tara nodded. _Just him, just him, just him. Safe. Feels amazing. Always amazing. Think about how he makes you cum. How it's so good. Never hurts. _

"I can't." Giles argued feebly. "I'm not a good judge of depth. Right now." His voice was a bit strangled. "Would you adjust us, Love?"

"Yeah. Sure." A breathless reply. _He's so good. So sweet. Cautious with me and what I need in mind, more than what he could get out of it_. She inched back. And nothing moved. She began to push her hips down, but they almost involuntarily bobbed back up._ I can do this. _

"If it's forced, it's not what I want." His whisper sounded almost tearful. Desperate.

"I can do it!" Tara's voice was sharp, something foreign to her, to him.

"I know." Giles soothed. "The strongest of us." He tentatively placed a hand under her, on her stomach, and tried to bring her back gently, while moving forward himself. Helping. "We can do anything we need to do, I know…"

"It felt so good." Her noise was more like a whimper now, and she moved back, but somehow it didn't seem like more of him entered.

Maybe a fraction deeper, he realized. _She was ready and I selfishly questioned and now she's struggling because I arrested the build, the mood_. "I'll make it feel good again, Love."

"Wait." Tara halted him. If he pushed in more firmly, she might have to tell him to stop, and she didn't want that. "Messed up." She shook her head.

"No." He shook his head back fervently. "Please don't say that."

"You were right and I wasn't really even thinking."

"Well… no. I can't claim rightness, and you're the most thoughtful woman I've ever met. It's all a matter of practice and losing the worries- on both sides." He gently swayed, not further in, not removing. "What if we - that is, like the other night? It wasn't terribly deep, but it still felt good. And we were together. Physically." _That makes it sound like the other attentions weren't physical. _"As in coupled. I mean to say-"

"Shhh." She had to giggle as she eyed him over her shoulder. "You're cute when you explain yourself to death. But you don't need to." Her hips nudged back, his responsively bucked forward, yet carefully so. She moaned softly. "Doesn't take much…"

_She's so gloriously warm and tight_. "No, it definitely doesn't." He was certain at this moment if she even _looked_ at his cock it would erupt.

_He's so thick._ She wriggled. There wasn't the room she thought she'd have, but it didn't matter._ The first few inches are the most sensitive. For both of us, I think._ "How is it?"

Ragged groaning, nodding without actual words. _She doesn't need to give me any deeper access. It'd be wonderful, but it's completely unnecessary_. His ego, which he had believed to be terminally injured, even found time to swell a bit._ I do bring her to climax. Without even using all of myself. That's a compliment really, that it isn't sheerly about "filling" her up, but about giving her what she needs. _"You do things to me…" He murmured, not caring if that made sense.

She arched her back down, then up and back, increasing the rhythm, bumping along, legs just touching, but her rear solidly connecting. Benefits of curves, she thought as his warmth soothed her. Her spread pussy also flirted with the heaviness under his erection. _Benefits of being with a bigger guy, too. Never would have thought … _"Oh, I know. You do the same kinds of things."

* * *

Rocking, pulsing, bending and rising, working in until she gave a little cry and pulled forward, shaking in a good way, knees collapsing as she came. Laughing as he followed her down with an eager growl, kissing her spine and neck, and releasing on the back of her thigh and swell of her bottom.

"We're getting better at this." Tara sighed deeply, contentedly as they rearranged themselves from a spent stack or bodies to a spooning position.

"You were amazing to begin with." He pointed out.

"You know what I mean."

And he did. _More free from pain, and the old ghosts that caused them._

* * *

_Storm _

"Did you eat?"

"We're eatin' together." Spike put two foil covered discs on the table. "Pot pies. Oven fresh, even."

"You can make pies?" Buffy put down her bag and stared at him incredulously.

"I mean I got 'em out of a box, but didn't microwave 'em. Home cookin'." He grinned. Then whistled. "Niblet! Slayer's home, let's eat!"

"Coming! Coming! How do I look?" Long legs thundered down the stairs and the teen stopped with an excited flourish at the bottom, trying to arrange her excited face into something serious.

"Well… that's a new look for you, Bit." Spike tried not to laugh. All in black, black on black, layers of jeans, boots, teeshirt, and over shirt, pockets bulging oddly with what he guessed would be weapons, crosses, and holy water. Topping it off, her hair was done up in a severe bun.

"Is that my belt?" Buffy asked, the only thing that seemed to come out of her mouth.

"Buffy! Come on, how do I look, for real?" Dawn whined slightly.

"You look like you'll blend into the night, I'll say that much. Um. The hair?"

"Oh, yeah. Practical, right? It can't get in the way when I'm fighting." Dawn mimed a kick and punch. Spike turned away in a coughing fit.

"Do you have a headache? 'Cause it's making your eyes bulge. A little." Buffy reached for the bun, then let her hand fall as Dawn pouted and backed away. "Sorry. It's uber practical. But um- I hope you don't fight anything. In fact, unless there's a real emergency, as in everyone else is fighting and you're like-glued to the ground with vamps in your face, I want you to run, not fight."

"Slayer." Spike's single word showed he disagreed.

"Spike." Buffy's reply showed he wasn't going to win an argument like that.

"But I have all this stuff!" Dawn protested, patting herself down. "It's patrol, fighting happens!"

"Eatin' happens first." Spike suddenly snapped. "No weapons at the table. 'Specially no holy water, not if you're sittin' next to me. One wrong elbow and a loose cap and I'm on fire. Now both of you sit down and eat."

"In a minute." Dawn grumbled. "Have to put this someplace else… Buffy gets to have stakes at the table. She always has a stake somewhere on her…" She stalked off muttering.

"Slayer! Different!" Buffy called after her, letting out an exasperated huff. "Where's your blood?" She turned back to her scowling swain.

"Shit. Probably needs reheating by now." He stalked off, leaving Buffy an island between two people in bad moods. _Might as well join in. Mail, bills. Absence of joy. _ She headed to the counter where the mail was laid instead of to her chair. The portable phone's base was blinking. "Where's the phone?"

"Try Dawn's room." Spike shrugged.

"I told you, if you take this phone, put it back! Use the one in the living room!" Buffy shouted.

"Don't go in _my_ room! And if you would get me a phone with my own line-"

"If you earn the money for it!"

"You won't let me get a part time job!"

"Your grades were crap last year, when you get good grades you can work part time!"

"That's not even fair! Last year was insane, people_ died_! And my grades were better than yours, always! Until then."

"Found the phone!" Spike waved it under Buffy's nose as the sisters prepared to war. "You listen to your blinkin' light. Little Bit, you come sit with me."

"What makes you think it's for _her_? Janice is probably calling me to see if I've been kidnapped by hermits and taken to live in a cave." The teen grouched.

"Well, we'll know in a minute." Buffy sighed, eyes pointed to the heavens. _How did Mom do this? Did she just ignore this? She must have been selectively deaf as well as in mega denial- to deal with _not dealing _with slaying and two kids trying to kill each other using the death by mouth technique._

For a second, between her finger hitting the button and the words starting to flow from the message into her ear, Buffy had the brief, reassuring thought that life was normal again, normal as it could be without mom. And that the craziness wasn't so bad, even the arguing was semi-routine sibling arguing, and there was dinner, and plans to hang with friends after dinner- even if those plans were slaying related, and ideas in the back of her head about grades to watch and jobs to worry about, and -

"This is Mr. Sabatini's secretary, calling to schedule your interview, as stated in the letter you previously received. Mr. Sabatini will be in your region from November 17th to 21st, and he's trying to keep your interview as a priority when creating his interview list. He's willing to work with your schedule, but for greatest flexibility you should call promptly to schedule. Please call the following number and use extension 511 to reach Judy Montgomery, secretary to Mr. Sabatini, INS."

Buffy knocked over the cutting block and flung potholders. "Shit! Shitshitshit! Spike! Pens! Paper, pens! Dammit!"

"Whoa, whoa, settle down." Spike tossed an envelope at her and yanked open a drawer, looking for something to write with. "Where's the fire?"

"Arg! I can't remember it, I have to replay it! Why isn't there a pen by the phone, Mom always had a pen by the phone! I can't write on this, Spike, I have to send this back to the phone company!"

"Here, here!" Dawn came skidding in, notebook flung in front of her, pen jammed inside. "Paper, pen!"

"Thank you!" Buffy scribbled. "Judy. Montgomery- is that how you spell it? Never mind, why are there so many numbers? What area code is this, where's this guy even coming from? He's in town for five days, is all that time going to be spent grilling Tara and Giles? And us? I better call Xander. I bet he got the same message. And Giles. Do you think they called him, or are they just going to spring it on him?"

"Sweetheart. The dog across the way is startin' to whine. You're a little shrill when you're upset." Spike winced.

"Dinner's getting cold. I think." Dawn said nervously, backing away, eyes blinking rapidly. "Everything is going to be okay, right? W-we practiced questions. Tara and Giles aren't faking anything, not about being married, not about loving each other, in some way. It's going to be okay, right?"

"Shhh. Everything's gonna work out." Spike easily grabbed her under one arm, and motioned Buffy to come in to the other. "Gonna work out fine. Not eatin', and screamin' about it, isn't helpin' anything."

* * *

"If Willow were around, she's say things were symbolic." Anya announced brightly from under her umbrella.

"Please put that away. It's like a bright yellow beacon. Not conducive to stealthily following a trail." Giles put his collar up. "It's barely raining."

"But it looks ominous and threatening." She pointed to the dark clouds rolling, and the lightning jumping through the lowering blackness. "Which is exactly how Xander felt the phone call went."

"Hey! No one was threatening. It was just- weird. Unnerving. I have a healthy mistrust of civil servants after watching my local city government morph into a giant killer snake."

"He didn't babble when the lady called, though. I was proud." Anya grinned.

"What are you talking about?" Giles frowned.

"Prob'ly a call from your friendly INS interviewer." Spike inhaled, then winced. "C'mon. No use puttin' off the hunt." He beckoned them to follow.

"You both received one?" Giles' head swiveled between his two "remaining children", his original ones, anyway. "They set up an interview?"

"I did."

"I called back and left a voicemail. We were out when the guy's secretary called." Buffy answered distractedly, one eye on her Watcher, one on her sister. "You didn't get a call? He's coming the week before Thanksgiving."

"Least it's not the week_ of_ Thanksgiving." Xander grumbled. "Being interviewed is going to give me more heartburn than any holiday my mom ever made or my dad ever got violently drunk at."

"Tara, should we co-host? I was going to say automatically that _we_ should have it, first Thanksgiving as a married couple, but now it's also yours and Giles'. I'm not sure what etiquette says about that situation." Anya interjected.

Tara's mind was a blur to begin with. "Huh? Oh. I don't know. Giles?"

"How come he didn't call us? Is he planning to ambush us?" Giles was oblivious to this side discussion.

"Etiquette- shmetiquette, I vote it goes to the person with the most chairs. Or floor space." Xander declared.

"Oi!" Spike suddenly turned and managed to yell while hissing, a combination no one expected, whispery and fierce at once. "Do you all want to stand out here in the bloody storm all night, or d'you want to be quiet, track the thing, and get home?"

"It's going to get worse." Giles didn't need to look at the sky. His entire back throbbed, no, stung and burned, and he could only imagine what it would have been like had he not already had one application of Tara's herbal remedies. "Spike is right- though it pains me to say it. We can worry about holiday dinners and the presence of interviewers once we deal with the more tangible- and stinking- threats."

"I'll do that spell." Tara stepped forward quickly. "Dawnie, you want to help?"

"Duh, yes!" Dawn all but squealed. "I mean, yes." She tried to seem more mature. "What can I do?"

"Whatever, do it fast. We're only on loan for an hour. Then I claim Xander again." Anya reminded them in a chirpy voice.

"I understand." Tara nodded. In the dark, only her husband saw her eyes flicker to him with a hint of the same eagerness.

* * *

"Get the rosemary, I'll get the candles." Giles tore his clothes off without preamble. His wife, a few steps ahead of him was doing the same. It was not for romantic purposes.

"Did you already submit an expense account for November?" Tara practically gagged, hustling half-naked to the "potion cupboard" in their kitchen.

"No, and I have a lot to add before the end of the month, it looks like. Do I dare try to wash these?" He gestured to the sodden mass that used to be a fairly decent set of clothes.

"I'm afraid it'll kill the machine!" Tara choked and shivered, soaking wet and removing the last of her clothing, caked with a foul-smelling residue. "But at least we killed that thing. And the nest is- destroyed." Spike and Buffy were responsible for wading in, doing the hard part. "I wonder if they're doing what we're doing?"

He was behind her, naked but not aroused this time, just stuffing all their damaged apparel in a trash bag before unceremoniously pushing it out through a small gap in the front door.

"I imagine so. Though, there is Dawn to consider. She was standing in back, but still."

Tara straightened up, a bottle of oil and a bottle of dried leaves clutched to one breast. "They probably aren't using this. But they don't need ritual cleansing either. B-Before a spell, like we're doing."

"No. They wouldn't." Giles took things from her, and watched her move quickly, like some voluptuous nymph, through the downstairs, snapping her fingers against wicks to light fragrant candles as she cleansed their home.

_Prepares to cleanse me_. The scars stung like razors were imbedded. He briefly wondered if maybe some part of a blade was left in him, had healed over, at least to the naked eye. Surely he would know. _Though people live with bullets lodged in, why not tips of knives, or whatever other hideous instruments Angelus used that night, working behind me where I could see, only feel, and never stopped feeling, only stopped being aware… _

"Bring the oil into the shower?" Tara suggested. "I was thinking we could scrub really good first, and then you can have a hot bath with the dried essence in it? Or the oil would work too, I guess. "

"Yes." He answered, voice hollow, numbed. "Good plan."

"We don't have to do the other thing." Tara didn't look at him. Well, a fleeting glance. They were unashamedly walking through this place, discussing spells and rituals, knowing intimate secrets, physical and mental. _I think that's what a real marriage must be. Naked on all the levels. And sometimes you have to help each other get unstuck. _ "Let's just get cleaned up."

"I need it done." He let her guide him. "I never had hope that I… I could have something so broken restored. I would be a fool not to take a chance." He smiled quickly before the seriousness crossed his face again. Look at the chance she took on me- and how that has healed so much already.

* * *

"You two can go in together." Spike waved the sisters towards the upstairs. "I'll wait outside."

"It's torrential." Buffy protested through a clogged nose.

"So toss me a bar of soap. You've got to get it off you."

"I didn't get any on me. Really." Dawn wouldn't be caught dead showering with her big sister anyway- unless there was_ actually _an apocalypse. "You two should go in. You're um- beyond gross." Tact failed. "I'll take the clothes and… burn them?"

"Just put them in the trash."

"Not my coat!" Spike insisted it be left on the porch railing. "I'll have a demon dry cleaner in town fix it."

"There are demon-run dry cleaners in town?"

"Two of four." He smiled through the muck. "Go on then, you two. Get washed down."

"Seriously. You guys go. For the sake of my nose." Dawn gagged.

"But…" Buffy reluctantly made her way up the steps. Spike stood still, eyes on her. They shared a room. Her sister and friends knew about them. Said friends and relative weren't stupid.

"I know you have sex. I don't think you're going to have sex_ now_. Unless hormones aren't affected by demon gut vomit stuff. But I wouldn't care. I just- I'm gonna stop talking."

"I'll wait outside." Spike said again.

"It doesn't matter to us. To anybody, if you two take a shower. Or sleep together. Or love each other." Dawn left the hall, heading to get a garbage bag. "Leave whatever you want thrown out in the hall upstairs and I'll handle it."

"Thanks, Dawn." Buffy murmured. Spike nodded as well, refraining from touching the teen's shoulder as she passed him.

* * *

"That was very mature of her." Buffy stripped down and Spike soundlessly took her clothes and added them to his before laying them on an old towel in the hall.

"You didn't deny what she said."

"I didn't need to. I just- I didn't want to set a bad example, or make her think too much about man-woman stuff." Buffy whispered, blasting the shower on, finding her tropical body wash and preparing to sacrifice the entire bottle to the effort of cleaning them up.

"We'll be quick. An' we'll be 'clean'." He winked but there was no smugness or smirk to accompany it. Just tiredness and a new sort of contentment. _She loves me. _

"At least until we get to bed and she's asleep, right?" Buffy turned her eyes to him, seeming so large in a pale, wet face, her hair instantly black and plastered down under the stream.

"Anything you need or want, Luv." Spike pledged.

* * *

"Your turn." Spike emerged from the shared bedroom, baggy boxers, faded teeshirt, hair a mass of wet half-curls.

"Thank God." Dawn yelped and started dashing up the stairs. She smiled at the vampire at the top. _Big brother. Doesn't look like sexy dangerous vampire anymore. Looks like any normal guy. Does what he has to do, loves his family._ "You don't stink now."

"You still whiff a bit." He teased, and let her pass. "Slayer saved some of that coconut 'n' vanilla garbage for you."

"Tahitian Tropics is the name and it's expensive and shouldn't be used on demon gunk." Dawn lamented. "Slaying life is hard."

"Don't you forget that." He reminded. "So eager to go and kill the big bads. Not too glamorous, an' you should know."

"Believe me. I know. Doesn't mean I don't want to be there, with you guys. Family sticks together, even through the yucky parts." She hesitated, then kissed his cheek with a darting peck and escaped into the bathroom.

* * *

"You look really happy." Buffy put the hair dryer down as Spike stepped in, a slow beam on his face.

"I think your sis just called me family. An' it was different this time. Like- it wasn't just to talk about you lot. It was- all of us. Like I'm in." He sat down on the bed blinking. "Like I'm really here. Like it's all… real."

"That's what you want? To be here, where it's real, stuck in this mess?" She knew the answer.

"Yeah. That's all I want. Gimme all the shit in the world and ask me to walk through it, just gimme you- you and Dawn, to walk for."

She hadn't known it was coming out of her mouth, though she knew it was bursting in her chest. "I love you."

His head turned with an amazed jerk, but the rest of his body stayed still. _She said it. Out loud. No maybe about it this time_. "I love you, too."

In spite of all the difficulties and the bad things- someone with love and staying power-loving and staying with her and her family. That was all she really wanted, and there didn't need to be a big battle in her brain about the source of that love. " I love you. Come here? Stay here?" She repeated as she opened her arms, and he came home to them.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12

**Union**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ A story about love, but maybe not about romance. A sweet little piece about two gentle people who love each other without being in love, trying to overcome regrets, fear, and loneliness in order to keep what's left of their lives together. Completely AU, after season five._

_Author's Note: It's a piece about Tara and Giles. I never imagined I would write such a piece, but the idea would not leave alone until it was written. If you find that wrong, bad, or in someway worth getting upset over, please stop reading. I don't write to make people sad, I write because I love it and I like to share what's in my head with people who are looking to enjoy a flight of fancy. _

_Author's Second Note: Sexual content warning._

_Author's Third Note: I apologize for the appalling delay. A new baby and a host of other issues derailed my writing time. I never abandon a story though, even if I take forever to finish. This chapter picks up immediately from the last._

_Dedicated to AGriffinWriter, Omslagspapper, Writerdragonfly, Ginar369, Lupinesence, TieDyeJackson, __lil-leti. __and ghanima77 ._

**Part XII**

"I think the third go round has finally defeated it." Giles tossed the now empty bottle of shampoo out, glistening arm arcing around the shower curtain.

"Victory." Tara laughed. "Remind me to run to the store tomorrow."

"I'll put it on the list." He kissed the back of her neck affectionately. This was the second time they'd bathed together, and neither time had been a romantic encounter. _Nor will it become one. Not this time._

"You soak. I'll- g-go?" Tara checked that he still wanted to do this. He nodded, unspeaking. "If it hurts too much, we don't-"

"This is one of the worst nights I've had in years." He cut her off. "More than ever, it makes me realize that if I want to keep up with my job, my family, help keep them safe, I have to face pain, try to remove it. I have to try to get better."

"I understand. I just- if you wanted to see a doctor?" She was outside the curtain now, could hear the shower switch to the heavier rush of water, the tub filling.

"You are more healing that anything they can prescribe." He sank down, resigned to the events leading up to the bliss. Tara's hand pulled the curtain back some, and she knelt, in a pale blue towel, pouring in rosemary oil.

"I'm good with balm. It's the other part…"

"I have confidence in you."

"I know I'm all 'hippie' and 'homeopathic rules!' sometimes at the shop, but I totally know there's a place for pain meds."

"Then you also know their place is for severe, short-term injuries that you heal from and then get back to the battling when the side effects wear off." He squeezed her hand as it stirred the oil into the water. "You're worried about hurting me, but you truly cannot cause any more pain than the original event. Of that I'm certain." Giles smiled at the serious light in her eyes, the twitching of her fingers before they clamped on to his. "You've seen me treat everyone in this family. I have morphine, I have hospital grade supplies now, courtesy of the Council." He gave a wry smile. "I've taken them myself at times. Fighting while drugged is an excellent way to add further injury."

"And you have to be there for her. You stay sharp for her, won't let anything dull the pain for _you_." Tara whispered, thinking of the Watcher's role in helping his Slayer, this particular Watcher's role being far more active and long -running than any of his predecessors.

Giles's wry grin turned softer, broader. "She doesn't know that. Not fully. And- she's not the only woman I'm considering when I refuse to take things that cloud my judgement. I've loved ones to look after these days."

"And loved ones to look after you." She rose slowly. "Come up when you're ready."

* * *

Beyond ready, but mildly apprehensive, that was how Giles felt as he made his way up to the loft, wrapped in a towel at the waist, back toweled off, hair damp and curling in untidy waves. The oil in the water had given him a sheen that lasted, absorbed into the skin, seeming to make him glow, not glisten as he entered the bedroom.

_He looks so much younger without the glasses and the button-down shirts. I love his smile. _Tara gave him a wide, welcoming one as she pushed the small tray of glittering black powder next to the bowl of thick white balm.

"Are you tired?" He double-checked as he padded to her.

"No. It wasn't a long patrol- just a stinky one." She wrinkled her nose and laughed lightly, the cream-colored apples of her cheeks lifting, taking his heart along.

"Amazingly, I think we removed all traces."

"Yeah. One down- one to go." She was being brave, and he knew it, not letting herself back down.

"Darling, I know you can't remove all traces of this." He gestured vaguely to his torso.

"I can remove some. I can- I can try." Her voice was quivering, but her hands were steady.

"I'm only telling you- it's all right if you don't. I would never love you less. I love you- more each day, more each time you try anything with me." His voice hitched in the middle and he coughed out the end of his sentence.

Tara's eyes seemed larger in the candlelight, her towel-clad body more of a soft swirl in a dream as her graceful arms deftly took a turquoise clip from the bedside. She pinned her hair loosely back, letting it cascade down her shoulders instead of tangling wetly across her neck and face. "Welcome, Warrior." Her voice was a sweet bell, calling the weary to worship.

Giles sighed as he stretched out on the bed. The priestess who'd blessed him so many times in recent days was about to do so again.

* * *

Tara paused, hands over the small brush that rested in the black substance. A little holy water added to the powder, and ink was made. Willow and she- so many nights started with the writing of a chant, a charm, a blessing, across skin, tiny bamboo brush and glossy black bristles swirling on snowy skin. Meaningful. Sensual.

She ignored the brush, her finger tips going in slowly. This has to be worked in by hand. Too important to let anything break the flow of the spell, of her magic to his body.

Giles quieted a moan as he felt something brush his back, and bit his lips as she deliberately traced the first scar on his shoulders.

She channeled his pain into her being, the words out of her mouth, each symbol she drew had a meaning, words for removal, for healing, for erasing, for taking.

_What if I take more than the pain? What if I take part of him? _Her breath came out faster. _I love the person he is. This is- harder than I __… _she couldn't let herself finish thoughts, needing all her focus on the artwork she made of his skin.

_Willow. Sweetie, if you__'__re there, if you don__'__t mind this, I need your help. You had the power I don__'__t have. _

_ Think about him. Think about Willow. Channel her in, channel Angelus__' __evil out._

* * *

It burned and it stung, but it would anyway, in a storm like this one. Giles felt the memories pull at him like lead weights, tied to him, dragging him under. Her hands on each scar, words echoing meaninglessly as they became a repetition- so many times to say the phrase, so many scars to heal, and- and feeling them open again. As if they weren't scared over, as if they were new wounds.

"Stay with me." Tara rocked her body over top of his back, her chanting becoming a keening hum, hands feeling hot. "Stay with me, Rupert."

"I'm here." He grimly assured her, jaw set.

"It takes- awhile." She sounded breathless.

"I know." The grim tone left. Replaced with a much smaller voice, a sadness that she couldn't shake, what these memories all stirred up. "Carry on."

Tara sat on her knees, astride his thighs, hands digging in to his skin lightly as she felt the tremors coursing down his spine.

_He__'__s the weak one now. He__'__s the vulnerable one._ Her quaking and flinching around him were nonexistent, distant memories associated with another place, person- life.

He's made me safe. He's made me remember- _I__'__m loved, was so loved, am so loved, will always be loved. _

_ I__'__m back. _

She swallowed a gasp as her fingertips stopped being hit and were just- light. Lights bursting from the tips, tiny white beams.

"I'm fearless, holding the Warrior's strength, his pain." Tara intoned, not part of the written spell, part of her own magic. "He took my fear and pain and made me whole, and I- shall make him whole again."

Giles felt something pulling from him, and pulsing into him all at once. What's more, he felt heat, not just at her hands, but from _all_ of her. Without looking back, eyes tightly shut against the pain, he could_ feel _her glow.

"I will protect you. Heal you. Love you." The throb of desire hit her hard in the heart, moved down to the burning in her belly and spread out like warm water spilling, pressing into the spaces she kept tightly sealed.

_Ready to share with him. Wish Willow were here to share it, too. And to help me. Home stretch and I__'__m__… _Tara felt like she'd never been more focused, yet never had more chaos inside.

_Willow. Willow, listen. Find me! Find us, I need you, like I always need you. This is for Giles. Find me. _Her eyes rolled back and fluttered.

Dimly, he was aware that this much magic must be draining her, as it was surely draining him, and he was the recipient. He made a stifled sound, not even words, unable to convey any real meaning. _What happens if we stop now? _

_ It doesn__'__t matter. I told her we could always stop. _"Rest?" He finally managed to grunt out a question.

His torturers had not rested. There was no relief from pain. There were no breaks for the man underneath her, and no one even knew of how deserving he was of receiving one.

"Not until it's done." Tara finished the final tracing, and blearily looked over her handiwork. A beautiful back that was more ink than skin now, just like it had been more scar than whole flesh.

_That was so hard. The next part__'__s the _really _hard part, and I already feel like I- well, it doesn__'__t matter what I feel like, because I _have_ to. Have to make him better. _

_ Willow. He needs us both. _I _need you both. It__'__s selfish to need anything from either of you, but__…_

Tara and Giles both froze, simultaneously.

A scent hit them hard, hard enough to bring tears to their eyes. When you suddenly catch a whiff of something tied to a million memories, good, bad, sad, heartbreaking- and you thought you'd never catch that scent again. Not in this life.

Giles realized all at once that he never had associated a smell with Willow until it was reintroduced. A blend of her skin, her soaps and detergents, her magic. A sound like a whisper and a giggle. Heat came from on top of him, and underneath as well. His mouth was too dry to speak and his eyes suddenly too wet.

_If she's here for me- she's here for Tara. _

The scent was enough to wrack her with sudden silent sobs, aching sobs of missing, of knowing she was there, but wasn't. Then the tingle- the feeling of her lover's own particular aura and energy signature slammed into her, rocking her sideways, before steadying her, pushing into her, and pushing into Giles.

Her fingers strained, burnt, and so did his back. "_Heal him_!" A strangled command and a desperate tug of her thumb across the first scar at the base of his spine- and his answering hoarse gasp told her it was working. She blinked, eyes blurred with tears, sweat, and strain.

"Gone." She breathed. Oh, not like fully gone. But now- just a flesh colored line in flesh, nothing raised, nothing "scarred". Unnoticeable. Maybe inside- unable to be felt as it was unable to be seen?

Giles knew it was so- for just one. An act exhausting and in need of repeating a few dozen times._ She's already struggling, what kind of selfish fool was I to think we could do all in one night? Now Willow is… _he shook his head . Thinking "Willow is here" wasn't quite right, yet the thought invaded his mind. _Willow is aware that I'm… weak like this, and that Tara is breaking herself trying to fix me._ The plea for his bride to stop for now was on his tongue when something seemed to seal his lips.

Giles buried his head in the pillow beneath him, panting, eyes tightly shut, but he knew that his head was really on something else soft. Something made of air and arts, not of this world.

Tara closed her eyes. A voice was speaking, but she knew the sounds must be in her head, if they were there at all. Willow would never sound so serious, telling her "If he can endure it, you can finish it." Even if she could almost believe she knew that voice…

_For you and Giles, in big heavy magic? You bet your sweet aura I can sound "serious"._

"Baby?" Tara gasped out.

* * *

He hugged the pillow like it was his life line, and swallowed down a shaking, hysterical laugh when he could've sworn he felt something hug him back. Not Tara's tender hands from above, something from beneath.

_I miss you. Take care of my baby, okay?_

"Yes. Yes, I promise." He swore incoherently.

* * *

_Take care of him. Okay?_

"Stay ! Stay and help me!" Tara clutched the skin under her, unaware if she was speaking inside her head or outside of herself.

The figures on the bed thought they heard a gentle laugh, a laugh that still held a little bit of a smirk under it. A clever girl's laugh, bouncing off something faraway._ If I didn't love you both so much, I'd be jealous. My high school crush, my schoolgirl fantasy, and my true love. Two fantasies meeting each other… and I'm not really here._

Figures stiffened, heads lifted, blinking back tears.

Tara bit her lip, but it was Willow's lips she felt as the tears overflowed. _Willow._

_Sorry I can't stay. Came to help two of my favorite people. Take care of each other. For me. For everyone._

They choked out promises in unison.

_He loves you a lot. Me too. He's not used to it- no one could be used to the way you love. So much, so pure, all of you… it's the best thing. Don't be afraid to give all of you. He will too, He's just scared. More scared than you are, he doesn't have any practice. You're a natural._

Giles craned his head back to look at the girl behind him. Had Willow just said- had he somehow just heard some sort of spirit echo- saying_ he _was the one more fragile in this pair?

_How had she figured it out, did the eternal perspective open her eyes to it, or had she known all along?_

_ Doesn't really matter. She's right. Right about everything._

"I love you." Tara whispered, eyes upwards.

_ I love you. I'll stay until it's done. With both of you. One more time, I can help. One more time I get to tell you both that I love you. That there's nothing I want more than to see you happy, and if together works, it works. Miss me always, love me always, but don't waste what you get. Make this life shine. Explode with a thousand stars…_

* * *

Giles exclaimed sharply as a wave of blinding pain burst across his skin, and then it was gone. Erased into perfect nothingness- not aware of any pain, there is no pain. Even the memories of the torture seemed fuzzy right now. He was silently weeping in relief, just a slow, occasional tear.

Giles became aware that Tara was still over him, leaning heavily on his shoulders, weak and panting.

"She's- she was here." Tara whimpered.

"I know."

"I felt like - like all three of us were talking, or listening, but then I don't know… I don't know what sounds crazy or impossible, because I know so many impossible things are real now." Tara babbled, sinking down, cheek on now smooth back.

"She - she did it all at once." Giles whispered. "A final gift."

"She's not mad."

"We knew she wouldn't be. But so welcome to hear her say it."

"Exactly. So good. So good to just- I could… _feel _her."

"Smell her."

"Hear her voice."

Silence in her wake. "Thank you."

"I didn't do the hardest part."

"No. She spared us- the hardest parts." Giles slowly tried to sit up, but Tara took his shoulder and rolled him to his back, watching him suddenly groan in joy as his back connected with the sheets and not even the tiniest twinge assailed him. "Stay like that for a minute."

"My pleasure." Giles sighed and squeezed her hand. Her hand escaped, began a ghosting trail up his arm, kneading absently when she got to his shoulder. It seemed to him that it took awhile for her eyes to catch up to her hand, slowly moving in the candlelight before locking on his.

"Rupert."

"Hm?"

"When I was - when we were in that spell together… I felt…" Tara licked her lips. It was very easy to talk to this man, easier than it had ever been with all others, save her Willow. It still didn't mean she could fluidly express such a complex jumble of thoughts and feelings.

"It was very- intense. Surreal, in good and bad ways." Giles saw her struggle and gently shared his own thoughts, hoping to help her express hers.

"It was weird for me to feel like I was strong- and someone else- a_ st-strong _someone else was v-vulnerable. To me. To what I was doing. I felt- like I was the protector for a change." Her voice had almost entirely disappeared, her typically even coloring mottled with flushes at chest and cheeks. "Someone I love needed me, and I was in charge of providing the safety. I was in control. Not spiraling…"

Giles nodded slowly. He could relate to the feelings of protector, and with her, he had surely learned about letting someone in, giving someone unprecedented access into heart and head. "Love is not about control." Tara looked mortified, beginning to hastily stumble through a clarification, but he halted her. "But it is about safety. Trust. Perhaps you just realized how very much I trust you, how much you do to protect those you love, in addition to how extraordinarily brave you are- and that is empowering."

"Pretty much." Her finger felt hot as it retraced the healing symbols she'd etched on his back across his chest. "Trust you."

The room felt weightless, as if he were floating, as if his hand was made of radiant heat as it automatically traced the symbol on her arm. Then higher. Across one breast, as her hand flowed down.

When had he become so hard?

When had she turned from wanting and wet to desperate and soaking?

He barely had time to shift before she was straddling his waist, subtle rolls and dips of her hips rubbing them together.

He moved under her like a much younger man, or at least a less injured one. Flexible and supple, no more pain hindering him as he followed her lead, dancing his body to hers in a rapidly turning familiar pattern.

"I love you. Protect you, you protect me." Tara panted. He nodded, hand sliding across her cheek, through her hair.

"I never thought I could share something like this, with anyone." He blinked. The poets and the songstresses, the rockers and the old bards, and he'd never heard them accurately put into words this sort of feeling. He'd never imagined this unusual type of love or connection could even exist, let alone be for someone like him, certainly not with someone like Tara. "Here we are, though." He murmured hazily. "Loving each other."

"Exactly." Tara leaned forward, head touching his as her hand gripped him and made sure that he wouldn't have to rely on just the sheer wetness of her to slide into his target. She guided him in smoothly, feeling them gasp as one.

"Oh God." He gripped the back of her neck. "My love…"

"It's time." She replied simply. "It's right, right now."

* * *

She somehow expected this moment to have a waiting silence, or some kind of drumroll, at least in her head. Instead there was just a sort of rocking, warming sound of two bodies breathing, a warm, masculine voice comforting, reassuring, encouraging, praising. All of it background, not in a way she thought of as really coaching her into something, rather just loving that they were sharing this, finally. She expected the bad tensing, dark memories to attempt to sneak in, and they only crossed her mind in a flash as she realized they weren't there this time.

"So big." She moaned, a pleasurable moan this time, as the knob slid in to its usual shallow depth easily.

"Such a soft place to call home." He sighed back, hands kneading her shoulders as her knees inched up the outside of his thighs. Lowering herself easily, steadily, but slowly. His eyes tried to hide the momentary worry as he heard her breathing change, felt her muscles do something different.

It's only a second, but it seemed longer to him as he watched. Her eyes were closed, and she was swiveling, rocking, holding herself back in a way, preventing herself from taking the final plunge which he imagined would be similar to a virgin taking her first lover. He wished he could make that perfect for her, wished that he could go back in time and give her a true first. Just for a second. His lips toy with the idea of forming words to stop her, even if he knows there's no stopping her, that if she says it's right, right now, it is. _I only hope I hold up my end of this bargain…_

A half- sob of triumph and pleasure escaped from Tara. She knew it wouldn't be completely painless or at least completely comfortable, not after so long without this depth of penetration, not without ever taking something of his size or girth before, regardless. The sudden burning pulse evaporated almost at once after she let herself push down smoothly, nestling him in deep, her spread lips, still around such a tight channel, connecting to his base.

Giles gasped hoarsely when it was completed, finding himself fully engulfed in her. "Oh love, oh my Tara, my love…" He gripped her waist and tried not to give in to the instant desire to thrust. _Where would I go anyway?_ His once shy bride was taking every single bit of him, and splitting herself wide and wet on the full length. His hard crown met walls of slick silk and a little nub of pressure at the top. He felt his own juices start to flow into hers, so aroused at the idea of being connected, physically connected as they could be. And that she was beaming. Moaning and smiling, laughing, tears escaping the corners of her eyes as she mewled and crowed in turns.

_Nothing hurts. And there's no one but us. Just how he feels, and I feel, and how we make each other feel. _The way things had felt with Willow was like this, but there had still been the physical caution at sometimes. It was gone now.

Giles stared open mouthed at the goddess riding him. _Oh dear Lord… not going to last for long, and she deserves as much as she wants… _She wasn't helping delay things at all, head thrown back, hands on her own chest, then on his, and those glorious full hips sliding faster and faster. Helpless once again, he thought in his pleasurable haze. _She is safe, and "in control" and I couldn't be more delighted._

"I never felt this good. Ever. I'm better. _We're better!_ I love you!"

_Then there's that._ Giles groaned as her words shattered all previous concepts of his happiness. "You did it. All of it." He praised, fingers curling around her arm.

"No, not without you." She shook her head frantically, hips even more frenetic.

"Oh, sweet Lord… Tara, going to … are you going to be sore after?" How anything so wet but so tight could move so snugly but quickly on him was a mystery.

"Maybe in a good way." She laughed.

"I would give a million pounds to stay here and watch you like this." Giles breathlessly declared, not caring if it sounded either too soppy or too crass, thinking his wife- _My wife!_ \- understood him so well already.

"It's dollars now, you're married to a yank." She giggled before she bent and brought her lips down to his. "And it's going to happen again. Again, and again, and again." Tara kissed his chin, then lips again, grinning into his eyes. She no longer added the shy, obligatory "if you want to."_ We want to. This is a big part of what we wanted. _

_ Not the sex. The healing. _

_ But oh my God, the sex is _so_ good. _ Her muscles clenched and she found an erotic thrill race across her from toes to hairline as she watched the broad-shouldered man beneath her arch up and swear. "Soon?"

"I'm trying to be chivalrous, my wife before myself and all that, but yes. Very, very soon." Rupert confessed with a wheezing laugh, hand finding her breast. The sound she made at his touch added another hip crunching spasm and another "very" to the timeframe.

"Good. Because I'm going to beat you to it, very, very, _very _soon."

"Time it just so." He murmured, barely coherent, watching her. Never felt her cum from inside. The rapid riding was now met with shallow thrusts, letting her do most of the work, at her own comfort level. He wondered if he could tell for certain, because there had been so many blissful moments of her insides wracking and writhing on him, even in this short time.

"Okay." Tara nodded, hair undone and tossing by now.

Giles belatedly had a practical thought in the midst of the heady experience. "Is it-"

"Safe?" Tara completed his thought. "I'm pretty sure. Nothing's ever one hundred percent definite."

"My love for you is."

So simple, so straightforward. "I love you, Rupert. Really do." She touched his cheek lightly, before her hands dug into his shoulders, forcing herself to find a leverage spot, push up and back, driving her home. _Taking him with me._

Her moans were suddenly much faster, not protracted, instead short, hot bursts as he found her making prolonged strains, until they simply didn't stop, locking him in a tight quivering embrace as her voice hit new heights.

"Bloody…" He couldn't even finish. His orgasm ripped out of him, and hers crashed down. He couldn't tell if he was shouting anything out, or just letting out a silent cry of pleasure, his ears were stopped with her sounds. Beautiful, sensual sounds of someone undone and uncaring. Someone filled with love and life. And him. His essence. He could fell another layer of hot wetness coating them both as she remained on top, cumming again after he filled her but was too stiff to slip out. "Oh God. I love you."

"Mmmm." Tara's eyes were glazed, hands rubbing across her belly and hips as they tingled.

Willow was right. This is a goddess, some sort of primal, earth goddess, fertile and full of womanly power. And I, in some very small part, helped her get some of what was lost back to its rightful home. "So beautiful."

"Handsome." Tara eased forward. He wasn't even slightly softened yet, and she didn't mind. There was a definite ache, but she actually enjoyed it. All her aching muscles were combined with a magical afterglow, literally and figuratively magical. She let her legs close, her torso well up his, lying with him inside her still.

"Are you okay?" He stroked her hair softly.

"I'm mildly-_ very_ mildly, ouchy. And totally happy about that." She kissed him sweetly on the lips, then with a kitten like playfulness, kissed his collarbone and nipped it. "Are_ you_ okay?"

"I'm… reborn. It seems a very 'new age' sort of term, but that's the feeling." _So much just happened. A rollercoaster. An incredible journey completed in one marathon night._

"Exactly." Tara wriggled on him, and he slowly dislodged, at least partially. "Willow…: She blushed suddenly. "Willow's happy about this- and I almost-sort-of- this-sounds wrong-ish-ly hope that she got to feel what I felt. With you. Because you um- you could easily make fantasies come true."

"I'm afraid I did very little this time."

"Which is pretty impressive. That you could make this so amazing, and you say you did 'very little." She shook her head. "If you mean I moved more, yeah, this time I did. But you did so much of the work. Getting us here."

"It was a mutual journey. A short walk on a long road, oddly enough." He sighed and gently maneuvered to separate them fully. "Hrm. I'm happy to let you do things at the pace and position you want, Darling. I can also be more… active."

Tara's insides squirmed eagerly. "After another shower?"

_We _are _an utter mess_. "I'll do this linens, you go on." He offered, really not wanting either of them to move.

"I was thinking more along the lines of we lie here until we fall asleep, wake back up, and you come with me." She snuggled under his arm. "I don't think I like the idea of being too far away from you. From us."

His heart did a foolish, young-feeling leap. _This can be my mid-life crisis. I'll gladly take the stereotype, just let me stay with her. _"That sounds brilliant."

* * *

Her hands pressed against the tile. His chest hit her back, his large hands cradled the space between hips and pubic bone, and his warm laugh sank into her shoulder.

Her toes curled, the arch of her foot rose, and she bent forward, moaning softly, letting him catch her as the water poured down their spines. Feeling him thrust inside, letting her simply receive this time. Something so enormous in such tight, tender places, and finding him surprisingly gentle. No, not surprising at all. "More." A single word.

"Of course, Love." The pace increased slowly, building until her moans equalled his, and they gave themselves to each other again.

* * *

Clean sheets. Darkness, candles long gone out. Tired, sated, pain free bodies. "This is my version of heaven." Giles sighed as sleep started stealing over him for the second time.

"On earth. Who'd have thunk it, huh?" She giggled sleepily.

"You're really fine?"

"No. Fine is like the bottom layer on the seven layer chocolate cake of happy that I am right now." Tara rolled over and poked him gently, making him roll slightly to the side. She ran her hand lovingly over his back. His smooth, unscarred back. "And you?" Her voice was very quiet. Losing the look of something doesn't necessarily change what it was. "I hope we did- the right thing for you."

"I'm still a product of many moments, good and bad." Giles let his own hand pass the opposite shoulder and reach for the cords of hard, red skin that weren't there anymore. "I no longer needed an outward sign, nor the pain that accompanied it." He cleared his throat. "Thank you. For- for doing that. And for calling for- her. I know she was there. I felt her help us. Because she still loves you, loves you always."

"Loves_ us_ always." Tara whispered gently. "I'll love her forever. And- um- you too."

Giles turned back to face her abruptly. Staring. "It's mutual." He finally said. "All of- this?"

"Forever. You know. As forever as it gets on this earth." Tara blinked suddenly bright eyes.

* * *

Sunlight woke them later. Much later. The phone shrilled downstairs. "I don't wanna." Tara fussed sleepily and pulled on her warm, solid pillow as it began to move away.

"Hang the bloody thing." Giles swatted the air ineffectually.

"Is it late?"

"I don't give a damn." He swatted again, this time thwapping himself in the forehead on the downswing. "Ow." She giggled against him. "None of that. We're in no condition to judge coordination skills." Giles grumbled drowsily.

"I'm hungry. Now that I'm awake."

"Kitchen?"

"Too far." Tara sighed.

"Magic something up the stairs?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Only in this house is that even a true possibility. My enchantress." He grinned, eyes still closed.

"My warrior."

"Ooh, stop, you'll make me want to exert myself." Giles grunted out a weak laugh. His eyelids parted slowly as he felt her trail a hand across his torso, down between his thighs.

"No exertion needed. At least according to this guy." Tara easily stroked the erection that he sported.

Giles blushed. "That's- hm- that happens, at times. It isn't an indication that arousal is present."

"Isn't it?"

"Well,_ now _it is." He rolled on top of her with a sudden laugh, loving her squeal. His hand met her softest flesh as she manipulated his hardest. She winced slightly, and he paused. "We did so many other lovely things. Full- hrm- penetrative-yes, you know. But h-hrm- we can do other things. Later. Or now. Please… don't do something that causes you- us- any discomfort. I'm going to stop talking right now."

"You're cute when you stammer."

"You, too." He returned.

"Hey!"

Giggling and poking ensued until they rolled from the bed, trying to scramble back up and fall gracefully at the same time.

"I can't believe we did that." Tara sat up with a sigh.

"We_ are_ still newlyweds. I believe bedroom antics are supposed to be at their peak."

"Yeah, but not so much floor of the bedroom. At least, not unless it's on purpose." Tara rubbed her backside. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm perfectly fine." Giles smoothed his hair, then flexed his shoulders experimentally. "Better than fine, thanks to a certain talented woman."

"Talented,_ hungry_ woman." She reminded him with another nudge.

"Out for breakfast? You deserve spoiling and thanking and… just because." _I sound very soppy. I don't really care right now, as long as she doesn't mind._

"Hmm. I think I'd rather have breakfast in…" Tara's foot trailed up his calf. "Because it's closer to the bedroom."

"But we just- I- I don't want to take advantage, overtire you."

"I think I'd be the one taking advantage. I'm the one who could act like I've got some 'new toy'. I don't think of it like that. I think of it like us being together. And I think that I'm the younger one. If anyone's gonna get tired, it's _you_." Her voice tripped along teasingly at the end, but her soft smile turned serious. "If I sound too enthusiastic-"

"If you knew how much I enjoy it, how good you feel- I could quite easily keep you in this bed for a week straight, 'old man' or not." Giles stretched and sighed. "As usual, our mutual consideration has sent us into an awkward conversational spiral."

"Pancakes. Then back to bed." Tara declared firmly.

Giles nodded. He followed her downstairs, pulling his sleep pants up as she wrapped a sheet around her. He noticed that she hesitated for a moment, then took the phone off the hook on her way to the kitchen.

"Happy honeymoon, part two." He whispered in her ear as he came up behind her, kissing her shoulder.

"_Happier_ honeymoon." Tara amended.

* * *

"Phone goes straight to busy signal. Both cars are still in the parking lot." Xander told Anya. "Spike said they hadn't checked in. It's not like them to miss classes or work."

Anya frowned, then smiled, gently polishing one of the glass display jars behind the register. "They'll come up for air soon."

"Come up for- Ahn…" Xander rolled his eyes.

"Remember when we did it the first time? How it turned into like the first seven time? And remember when Willow got together with her? Remember Giles and that Olivia person?"

"Oh. Well - that's different." Xander blushed.

"Why?"

"Because - those people were both around the same age and with their preferred gender of partner?"

"Excuse me? I've got centuries on you." Anya huffily reminded him. "Are you saying you only love me in my twenty year old body, and not for my eleven hundred year old self?"

"No! I love you for you!"

"Then let Tara and Giles do that too."

Xander swallowed. "Willow's only been gone a few months…"

"Gone isn't the right word sometimes. She's gone from here- but she is still right there in both their hearts. Willow is never leaving- any of us." Anya swallowed suddenly, unused to these weird pains. "Do you think waiting longer would mean they love her better?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"So hurting longer, that's better for them?"

"Geez, Sweetie, you know I don't mean it like that." Xander hung his head.

"We got married a couple weeks after her funeral. Because you said- you said we shouldn't keep waiting, it might end before we could blink." Anya caressed his work roughened hand.

"I know."

"Don't get mad at them for trying to get back into this life. It can end too quickly, and trust me, I know mortal lives go way too fast. Too fast, no matter what." She let go of him with an encouraging little squeeze and returned to the polishing with a brisk step and a quivering smile. "I hope they're snuggled up someplace together, laughing, crying, drinking wine, and giving themselves a day off, one day off from everything serious."

* * *

"You'll make sure to tell me when it's an inconvenient time. I suppose I should- know that, shouldn't I? As the husband? As someone who could answer the interviewer?" Giles watched her slip off of him, creamy skin noticeably pink and puffy in a few areas.

"What?"

"The- the natural cycle method you mentioned. Should I have a bit more specific information, in case I'm asked? And just for our own peace of mind? Although, if it seems like a good idea, we can switch methods. I can run to the chemists. Pharmacy." He corrected hastily.

"Oh. Oh! You mean- to avoid-"

"I'm sorry, I'm sure that was presumptuous."

"It wasn't!" Tara disagreed.

"I should never have-"

"The only thing you presumed is that we're going to make love again, and that's okay to presume on my account. Because I want to. Because I love you. Trust you."

He smiled as she lay down beside him, chin on his bicep, reminding him in someway of a cat curling up contentedly. "I love that you trust me. I trust you too."

Tara nodded. Her face tightened slightly, eyes went far away.

"Tell me." Giles encouraged gently. "I promise, you won't hurt my delicate feelings." He tried to make light.

"I don't want to say something that sounds wrong."

"I think we're past that," He reminded her gently, "and regardless, I do- love you, and would forgive you for anything you say, wrong or otherwise."

" Okay… Because I had a thought, and I'm pretty sure it sounds really, _really _wrong. Or at least crazy and impractical."

"I'm fairly certain that sums up large parts of the last five years of my life. As Buffy would say, go for it." He chuckled.

Tara hesitated. Her hand came to her soft skin above her navel and made an absent circle. "We did say we'd do natural cycle contraception. Th-that was before we… you know."

"Right, I recall. And that's a perfectly valid method, the one you choose. I leave it to you. I will do whatever you ask, change it if needed." Giles assured.

A pause. " I know you would. It's just, I suddenly thought - this is probably the only time either of us will ever …" Her hands trailed up and down her stomach again. "I'll never be with another man. I'm married to you. So if either of us ever wanted to… ever." Her hand stopped and lay still, as still as her wide, worried eyes.

"Ever?" He followed her hand down, and suddenly looked surprised as he understood. Surprised, but not displeased. "Oh! Oh. You mean- well, yes, this is my only chance for a family. Biologically. I know that. But I-" All his stammering was suddenly coming forth. "I would never have asked you to, or imagined you would want to, with me! Or at your young age, or at this time or- or at my advanced age. I'm not fit to raise a child, not a young father, not even a young husband." He slowed, watching her face, remembering that moon goddess astride him, sinking into his seed and feeling life flooding her. _ And that was very foolish, wasn't it. My assumptions and- allowing us to go so far…_

"I didn't know I- I would want to." She shook her head. "I'm not saying we _have_ to. It's your choice. A-and we don't have to 'try'. I just… if you ever wanted to, if we both ever wanted to… we don't have to stop it from happening. We don't have to try either."

Gile hesitated. "It's something to think about." Excitement and a strange feeling prickled him, combined with all his reserve and rationality screaming at him to dissuade her.

"Right. To think about." Tara nodded. "Can I say one more thing? Not being pushy."

"The furthest thing from your nature." Giles scoffed and urged her on with a squeeze on her fingers.

She tried to find just the right way to say it. Then gave up. Nothing they said had been based on being perfectly correct, and it had turned out wonderfully anyway. Painful, caring, healing, but still wonderful. "You would make a great father. You already have been one to kids who aren't even yours."

Forced to concede that his young loved ones thought highly of him, even if he didn't share their confidence, he turned to a topic he did have utmost faith in. "That may be a matter of opinion, at least in regards to me. However, _you_ would make such a wonderful mother. But this child, a - a hypothetical child from our union- would be _mine_. You'd never be free of me then, years after our arrangement could have ended, I'll be bound to you. Even after_ death_, and the expiration of our vows, I'll b bound to you…because we'll have a legacy that forever claims both of us." _Which suddenly sounds- simply beautiful. A connection that cannot be erased. A living proof that once we were healed, once we loved. Once, I wasn't empty, and I filled someone's life._ His voice clogged unexpectedly, "You will never be able to put that behind you."

She considered this. Where was the fear? Or the resentment? The worry? Nowhere. _See, he'll always understand me. And he'll let me love Willow. And he'll let me love him like I can. _"Is that okay with you? What you just said?"

_Is it?_ "Yes." He rasped, afraid to speak suddenly.

"That's how family is supposed to be." She snuggled her hips backwards into his. "And the- the things you said? I think you were trying to make me reconsider. Feel like I should worry about the long term effects."

"Not to worry, not to reconsider, only be aware. A heat of the moment thing that - however beautiful and special, would last forever."

"You think that's a bad thing?" She grinned into the pillow, knowing he would give her an honest answer, and it wouldn't be what he thought he _ought_ to say, as the "responsible, mature adult" of their little band.

"No. I think that sounds like a rather spectacular thing." He sighed in resignation, admitting something he wished he could ignore.

"Good. Because I do too."

"You what?"

"What you said was way better than I even thought about. I thought about how this might be a once in a lifetime chance- and you make it sound like it goes on _past_ this lifetime. A man like you will leave a legacy in all the mystical and charmed paths in the world- and you could leave a mark in the most 'ordinary' way, too. And so could I." She blinked. "The way that's not really ordinary at all, when you think about the way one person, one little life can make a difference."

Silence slipped over them. "It's not even something we should think about yet. We- we could find this whole thing very short lived, find ourselves an ocean apart, with one failed interview." Giles crushed the odd hope fluttering around his heart with a practiced rational blow.

"That's not happening. Not the apart part. I'm getting my passport." Tara said flatly.

"You're- what?"

"We need this family to stay together. But- if something happens, _we_ are a family inside of this family. I'm going too, if you have to go."

"Tara, I can't ask you to-"

"I love you and you never asked. You've never asked me for anything."

"But you always give."

"So do you, and you never even notice all the little gifts you share." She turned to caress his cheek, stroke back his hair.

"Exactly what I'd say about you!" Giles countered.

Tara smiled into his eyes. "Maybe one day, if everything feels right, we'll give the world one more."

* * *

_To be continued…_


End file.
